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"75 


"SCHAMYL," 

LAST    CHIEF    OF   THE    ROBBERS   OF    DAGHESTAN. 


TRANS-CASPIA 


THE    SEALED   PROVINCES   OF  THE   CZAR 


BY 


Author  of  "  Eastward  to  the  Land  of  the  Morning;"  "The  Kingdom  of 
'The  White  Woman" 


7l\ 


CIN'CINNATI 
THE    ROBERT    CLARKE    COMPANY 

1895 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  The  Robert  Clarke  Company. 


Ts 


PREFACE. 


As  I  send  these  notes  of  last  summer's  journey  out  into 
the  world  for  better  or  for  worse,  he  whose  protection  we 
enjoyed  for  many  months  lies  silent  and  cold  in  death 
within  the  cathedral  fortress  of  Peter  and  Paul. 

From  our  entrance  into  his  dominions  at  Wirballen 
to  our  departure  at  Irkeshtan  the  power  and  protection  of 
the  Czar  were  forever  around  us,  and  though  at  times  it 
seemed  to  one  from  America  irksome  to  be  so  eternally 
watched,  yet  I  could  not  but  feel  with  it  all  a  sense  of 
security  utterly  impossible  under  any  other  power.  The 
face  of  Alexander  III.,  as  it  smiled  down  upon  us  at 
every  point  or  post,  through  the  Caucasus  and  Georgia, 
over  the  Caspian  Sea  and  Black  Desert,  at  Bokhara  the 
Noble  and  fair  Samarkand,  at  Tashkend  and  Osh,  or  in 
some  lonely  outpost  of  the  "Valley  of  Paradise,"  was  for- 
ever that  of  a  friend. 

The  mere  mention  of  the  name  of  the  "  Little  Father" 
insured  us  protection    in  city  or  hamlet,   on  the  steppes  or 

(») 


1 cell 28 


vi  Pi' e face. 

the  mountains,  and  when  I  wandered  back  from  the  deserts 

of  Western  China,   sick  and  weary,    his  painted  semblance 

banished  a  world   of   trouble.      The   journey  was   long   and 

full  of  interest,   amongst  people  and  cities  but   little  known 

to  our  western  world.      I  venture,   therefore,   to   hope    that 

these  notes  may  afford,  to  those  whose  travels  must  be  by 

books  alone,   some   small    portion  of   the    pleasure   that   my 

wanderings  have  given  to  me. 

M.   M.   S. 

Cincinnati,  December  25,  1894. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.  St.  Petersblrg,           .......  i 

II.  Rlssi,\n    Red  Tape 15 

III.  Over  the   Dariel  Pass,          .         .         .         .         .  21 

IV.  TiFLIS, 42 

V.  En  Route  to  Baku,          ......  !;6 

VI.  The  Oil  Regions  and  the  Caspian,       .         .  63 

VII.  Usin-ada.  THE  Portal  OF  Trans-Caspia,    .         .  74 

VIII.  The   Plains  of  Turkistan,         ....  81 

IX.  GoEK    Tepe    and    the    Desert    of  the    Black 

Sands 84 

X.  Bokhara  the  Noble,    ......  04 

XI.  Samarkand  and  the  Kok  Tash,          .         .         .  ng 

XII.  The  Shah  Zindeh  and  the  Cholera,            .  1^2 

XIII.  Over  the  Famished  Steppes  to  Tashkend,     .  i6i 

XIV.  Ancient  Kokand  and  Modern  Margiiilan,  174 
XV.  OsH  AND  OUR  Departure  for  the  Mountains,  189 

XVI.  Through  "  Paradise"  tothe  DesektsofChina,     202 

XVII.  Ill  in  the  Desert,       ......  221; 

XVIII.  "JORNEfJFF,"    the    C(JN<y.KROK     OF    TMK     PamIKS,  243 

(vii) 


viii  Contents. 

Chapter  Page 

XIX.  The  Gates   and  Tablets  of  Tamerlane,     .  25S 

XX.  The  Deserted  Cities  of  the  Turkomans,      .  274 

XXI.  Trebizond    and     the    Cholera     Lazarettos 

OF    SiNOPE, 2^)6 

XXII.  The   Dying  Czar, 301 

XXIII.  Stamboul  as  it  was  and  is,     .                 .         .  304 


TRANS-CASPIA: 

THE   SEALED    PROVINCES   OF   THE   CZAR. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Dost  thou  see  on   the  rampart's  hight 
That  wreath  of  mist,  in  the  light 
Of  the  midnight  moon?     O,  hist! 
It  is  not  a  wreath  of  mist ; 
It  is  the  Czar,  the  White  Czar 
Batyushka  !     Gosndar  ! 

Berlin,  May,  1894. 

SECURING  the  proper  document  this  morn- 
ing at  the  consulate  of  our  country,  I  pro- 
ceeded therewith  to  that  of  his  Majesty,  the 
Czar,  in  order  to  assure  my  entrance  at  Wir- 
ballen  into  Holy  Russia,  I  had  fully  expected — 
as  of  old — to  be  closely  questioned  as  to  whether 
or  no  I  was  a  Jew — whether  my  parents  were 
Jews,  and  if  so,  why  so — but  the  fact  that  my 
passport    already  bore    the  visa  of   the    Russian 


2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

consul  in  New  York  caused  its  representative 
here  to  arise  and  salute  most  profoundly,  assur- 
ing me  that  Holy  Russia  was  as  an  open  book 
to  me,  and  strongly  hinting  that  our  consul  here 
knew  these  facts  when  he  made  out  my  docu- 
ments ;  knew  them  when  he  demanded  my  fee — 
1 6  marks;  also  suggesting  that  I  return  and  de- 
mand restitution.  However,  knowing  that  our 
consul-general  was  at  the  time  lying  dead, 
poor  man,  and  that  his  "  understudies"  had  done 
their  best,  I  pocketed  my  loss  and  moved  on  to 
the  frontier.  There  are  two  of  us, "and  we  are 
bound  for  the  ridge-pole  of  the  roof  of  the 
world,"  the  distant  and  gigantic  Himalayas.  It 
is  our  intention — Russia  and  England  consent- 
ing— to  pass,  via  Samarkand  and  Osh,  to  Gil- 
git,  in  Cashmere.  The  way  is  long,  and  may 
be  hot  and  may  be  cold,  but  we  shall  go  forward. 
I  carry  with  me  letters  from  the  Marquis  of 
Ripon  to  the  Viceroy  of  India,  and  am  assured, 
also,  of  all  the  assistance  I  desire  when  I  reach 
St.  Petersburg.  De  B.  has  gone  forward,  and  I 
must  take  the  long  ride  to  that  city  alone ;  there- 
fore, I  decide  for  a  two  nights'  journey  instead 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  3 

of  two  days.  I  can  always  sleep  in  a  train,  and 
the  way  is  deadly  uninteresting.  Though  pass- 
port restrictions  are  very  great  in  Russia,  I  can 
not  but  feel  that  I  am  well  taken  care  of,  and 
that  it  w^ould  be  impossible  to  "disappear" 
unless  the  authorities  desired  it.  I  am  also 
impressed  with  the  knowledge  that,  if  they  so 
desired,  my  disappearance  would  be  most  com- 
plete— "gone"  would  be  an  excellent  epitaph, 
after  which  it  would  be  well  to  place  an  interro- 
gation mark.  On  setting  out  on  a  tour  like  this 
in  Central  Asia,  one  can  not  but  wonder  what  the 
end  will  be.  If  you  have  ever  gazed  upon  the 
Himalayas,  you  will  understand  what  it  means  to 
penetrate  those  solitudes,  and  the  place  toward 
which  we  are  moving  is  beyoiid  those  solitudes. 
The  "  Pamirs."  Our  route  lies  over  the  Cau- 
casus and  Caspian  Sea — through  Merve  and 
Bokhara  to  Samarkand,  and  thence  into  the 
wilderness  of  plains  and  mountains  to  the  south- 
east, until  the  mountains  be  past  and  the  roses 
of  Cashmere  breathe  us  a  welcome. 

"  Guide  Abbas  available  for  two  months  and 
perhaps   longer  by  arrangement."     That  is  the 


4  Trans-  Caspia  : 

answer  to  our  telegram  sent  from  the  chief  city 
of  Holy  Russia  to  the  English  consul  at  Odessa. 
Abbas  is  a  guide  of  experience,  such  as  we  will 
need  to  pilot  us  through  the  vast  solitudes  of 
the  Pamirs  and  on  downward  into  Cashmere. 
We  wire  him  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  to 
move  at  a  moment's  notice,  though  according  to 
the  usual  slowness  of  Russian  officials  Abbas 
will  have  to  possess  his  soul  in  patience  for  some 
days  at  least.  Russia  is  not  anxious  to  have 
even  such  disinterested  persons  as  a  Dutchman 
and  an  American  penetrate  into  those  lands  of 
great  and  constant  debate  between  herself  and 
the  English  Lion.  However,  we  mean  to  go, 
and  have  therefore  moved  on  the  powers  that  be 
with  all  the  collected  artillery  of  the  Holland 
and  American  legations  and  embassies,  both 
here,  in  England,  and  in  Holland.  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  my  own  government  appeared,  until 
I  Reached  our  embassy  at  London,  both  ignorant 
and  helpless.  The  honorable  secretary  of  state 
insisted  upon  it  that  no  extra  passport  was  nec- 
essary, and  I  truly  believe  that  such  names  as 
Samarkand,  Osh,   Merve,  Bokhara,  Gil^it,  Tash- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  5 

kend,  and  Kashgar,  conveyed  no  meaning  to  his 
mind.  So,  aside  from  the  visa  of  the  Russian 
consul  at  New  York,  my  passport  left  our 
country  without  indorsement.  Our  ambassador 
in  London  fully  understood  all  the  difficulties 
and  rendered  me  most  useful  assistance  by  pro- 
curing letters  to  the  Viceroy  of  India  from  those 
high  in  authority  in  her  majesty's  government, 
securing  a  passport  from  the  Chinese  minister, 
and  in  many  other  ways.  Our  minister  here  in 
Russia  had  already  put  the  wheels  in  motion, 
and  I  found  on  arriving  that  every  thing  would 
be  granted — at  least  that  is  the  hope  and  belief 
at  present;  and  as  B.  has  received  every  neces- 
sary permit,  there  is  no  reason  to  imagine  that  I 
shall  be  refused.  At  any  rate,  we  have  tele- 
graphed Abbas  to  meet  us  at  Tiflis,  while  we 
shall  go  by  rail  to  Vladikavkas,  some  seventy- 
six  hours  to  the  southward — no  very  charming 
prospect.  There  we  shall  take  stage  over  the 
mountains  of  the  Caucasus  to  Tiflis.  That  will 
be  something  grand !  From  Tiflis  we  take  the 
train — seventeen   more   hours — to    Baku,   where 


6  Trans-  Caspia : 

we  cross  the  Caspian.      But  let  us  leave   further 
"  itinerary  "  for  the  present. 

We  look  forward  to  pleasant  weather  over  the 
Dariel  Pass,  as  the  spring  here  in  Russia  is  a 
month  ahead  of  its  usual  time.  The  changes  of 
the  seasons  are  very  rapid  in  this  land  of  the 
north.  To-day  is,  at  noon,  warm  and  balmy, 
and  yet  but  three  weeks  back  snow  lay  thick  on 
the  "Islands" — St.  Petersburg's  great  pleasure 
park,  around  which  flows  the  majestic  Neva,  and 
on  one  side  of  which  the  delicate  spire  of  the 
Cathedral  of  Peter  and  Paul  rises  from  the 
center  of  the  terrible  fortress  prison  of  that 
name.  Under  its  shadow  sleep  the  royal  dead 
of  Russia  from  Peter  down  to  Alexander  II. 
As  we  sit  in  the  legation  to-day,  discussing 
coffee  and  cigars  with  Mr.  White,  a  brilliant 
sun  lights  up  the  gold  on  the  delicate  spire  of 
the  royal  sepulcher,  the  green  woods  of  the 
"Islands"  and  dancing  waters  of  this  grand 
river,  shines  over  a  scene  of  m.ost  entrancing 
beauty — so  beautiful  that  one  forgets  that  those 
low  red  walls  surround  the  suffering  living 
dead    as    well    as    the    silent    emperors.     Those 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  7 

walls  of  Peter  and  Paul  encompass  and  entomb 
more  horrors  than  the  Bastille  ever  did,  and  to- 
gether with  that  other  prison,  the  Schliisselburg, 
some  two  hours  away  on  the  banks  of  Lake 
Ladoga,  constitute  Russia's  greatest  fortresses. 
To  them  the  poor  wretches  are  carried  first,  and 
on  any,  and  sometimes  every,  night  while  we  are 
sleeping,  the  midnight  requisitions  are  going  on, 
separating  dear  ones,  plunging  them  forever  in 
those  great  bastions,  only  to  pass  thence  to  the 
grave,  or  worse  than  the  grave — the  mines  of  far 
Siberia. 

Some  of  the  members  of  the  diplomatic  circle 
claim  that  Russia  is  charming — in  fact,  the  most 
charming  place  in  Europe  for  those  of  their  rank 
to  live  in.  One  man,  from  Switzerland,  whose 
duties  are  over,  avows  his  intention  of  living 
here  the  remainder  of  his  life.  That  is  as  it  may 
be.  Of  course,  I  can  not  contradict  him ;  but 
when  I  ask  of  the  "  people,"  he  shrugs  his 
shoulders  and  claims  that  they  are  too  debased, 
too  ignorant,  and  too  stupid  to  care  for  advance- 
ment, too  sodden  to  be  able  to  use  greater 
privileges  if  granted  unto  them.     A  century  or 


8  T7'ans-  Caspia  : 

so  may  cnange  this  ;  but  now,  knowing  not  of 
their  own  misery,  they  have  no  desire  for,  nor 
could  they  utiUze,  any  greater  freedom.  "And 
what  of  those  who  have  reduced  them  to  this?" 
"One  must  not  criticize  the  Czar."  The  people 
must  not  praise  him,  for  that  would  imply  a  right 
to  blame  him.  The  people  must  say  nothing 
and  do  nothing,  otherwise  the  ScJdiisselbiLj'g, 
Peter  and  Paul,  the  mines,  and  Siberia,  death 
having  long  since  ceased  to  be  a  terror  in 
Russia.  Yet  it  struck  me  upon  my  entrance  at 
Wirballan  on  Saturday,  that  the  espionage  and 
restrictions  were  not  nearly  so  great  as  a  few 
years  since.  My  luggage  was  scarcely  examined 
at  all,  and  I  noticed  that  it  was  likewise  with 
crowds  of  the  most  suspicious-looking  characters. 
I  could  have  smuggled  no  end  of  Nihilist  litera- 
ture and  other  contraband  articles,  and  perhaps 
the  very  fact  that  less  attention  is  paid  to  such 
things  makes  their  authors  less  anxious  to 
introduce  them.  A  constitution  for  Russia 
was  signed  by  the  late  Czar,  and  was  to  have 
been  promulgated    in  April,  but  his  murder  on 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  9 

the  1st  of  March,  1881,  ended  all  that.  An- 
archists, Nihilists,  and  their  like  will  never  suc- 
ceed until  they  acknowledge  that  no  good  ever 
comes  from  evil.  Alexander  was  a  noble,  pro- 
gressive ruler,  and  the  people  in  Russia  mur- 
dered their  own  cause  when  they  blew  him  to 
atoms.  Poor  man !  He  rests  over  there  in 
Peter  and  Paul  near  his  broken-hearted  father, 
the  great  Emperor  Nicholas  ;  while  not  far  off 
Catherine  sleeps,  dreaming  somewhat  of  her 
little  German  home,  but  more  often  of  her  many 
lovers.  On  the  tomb  of  the  late  Czar,  Dolgo- 
rouke  keeps  fresh  flowers  always,  but  his  wife, 
the  lonely  Empress,  is  remembered  by  none. 

Apropos  of  this  same  Empress,  there  is  a 
story  told  by  the  guides  of  St.  Petersburg — all 
idle  talk,  perhaps,  and  almost  too  sad  to  repeat. 
She  was,  as  the  world  knows,  a  victim  of  con- 
sumption, and  had  been  exiled  to  Italy  by  her 
physicians ;  but  her  homesickness  became  so 
great  that  she  prayed  hourly  to  be  allowed  to 
return  to  Russia.  Finally  the  Czar  asked  if  it 
were  possible,  and  was  told  that,  if  a  suite  of 


lo  Trans- Caspia  : 

apartments  could  be  arranged  so  that  the  tem- 
perature would  stand  always  as  it  did  in  Italy, 
she  miofht  be  taken  home  and  migrht  live  there 
for  some  months.  So  it  was  done.  Rooms  in 
the  "Winter  Palace"  were  provided  with  triple 
windows  to  keep  out  the  cold,  and  the  sufferer 
was  taken  back.  For  a  little  while  she  was 
happy,  and  then  the  terrible  disease,  stayed 
apparently  for  a  season,  asserted  itself,  and  her 
sufferings  became  so  great  that  her  prayers  for 
death  drove  the  Emperor  to  inquire  how  long 
she  would  live  if  the  cold  were  allowed  to  enter. 
"Twenty  minutes,"  was  the  reply;  and  the  cold 
was  allowed  to  enter,  and  she  died  "  in  twenty 
minutes,"  "utterly  alone" — so  the  story  runs. 
The  old  guide  babbled  on  as  we  wandered  from 
room  to  room  of  the  vast  pile,  now  into  the 
golden  drawing-room,  now  into  the  vast  white 
throne-room,  near  which  is  that  strange  bust 
of  the  great  Peter.  Finally  he  led  us  into  a 
small  apartment,  furnished  like  a  soldier's  tent, 
while  every  here  and  there  lay  folded  hand- 
kerchiefs, on  which  I  read  in  faded  ink  the 
name  "Nicholas."     The  garrulous  old  custodian 


TJie  Sealed  Provijices  of  the  Czar.  1 1 

droned  on  and  on,  telling  a  story  of  how  the 
great  Emperor,  broken-hearted  over  the  Crimean 
War,  had  one  day  summoned  to  his  presence  an 
obscure  chemist  of  the  city,  and  commanded  him 
to  "furnish  the  Czar  with  a  potion  that  would 
end  life  quickly  and  painlessly."  At  first  the 
man  refused  absolutely,  but  he  was  told  that  the 
"  Czar  "  commanded  it,  and  his  life  would  be  the 
forfeit  of  a  refusal.  So  it  was  given,  and  the 
chemist,  guaranteed  safety,  was  conducted  over 
the  border  into  Germany,  where  he  shortly  was 
found  "dead  in  his  bed;"  but  in  the  meantime 
"Nicholas"  had  been  found  dead,  here  on  this 
simple  cot  before  us.  Truth  or  fiction,  I  know 
not,  but  such  is  the  story.  There  is  no  fiction, 
however,  about  that  other  terrible  bed  in  the 
room  below  it,  where  Alexander  the  Second  was 
laid  after  the  explosion  in  1881,  and  there  he 
died,  and  the  traveler  of  to-day  shrinks  with 
shuddering  away  from  the  blood-stained  mat- 
tresses. The  gorgeous  fetes  and  splendid  court 
functions  pass  away  and  are  forgotten,  but  these 
"shadows"  forever  abide  amidst  the  gloomy 
splendors  of  the  Winter  Palace. 


1 2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

Funeral  ceremonies  are  something  terrible  in 
this  Greek  Church.  They  buried  on  Friday  last 
a  grand  duchess.  The  diplomatic  corps  were 
summoned  at  lo,  and  from  ii  a.  m.  until  2  p.  m,, 
all,  from  the  Emperor  to  the  lowest,  stood  on 
the  cold  floors  of  Peter  and  Paul.  One  strong 
soldier  near  the  catafalque  grew  suddenly  white 
and  rolled  over.  The  Czar  himself,  and  he  only, 
retired  for  an  hour.  No  one  ever  sits  in  a 
Russian  church,  so  you  can  fancy  the  fatigue. 
It  is,  however,  a  great  sight  to  go,  for  instance, 
to  St.  Isaac's,  which  to  my  mind  is  the  grandest 
church  in  Europe,  and  see  the  thousands  of 
worshipers,  the  large  majority  of  whom  are  men, 
standing  or  kneeling  in  silent  prayer.  I  notice 
that  the  people  crowd  up  around  the  priests, 
seeming  to  take  actual  part  in  the  conducting  of 
the  services.  Off  to  one  side  a  choir  of  magnifi- 
cent voices  roll  out  grand  music,  for  no  tone 
save  that  of  the  human  voice — God's  instru- 
ment— ever  awakens  the  echoes  of  a  Russian 
church.  The  shadows  were  very  thick  in  St. 
Isaac's  yesterday.     Long  rifts  of  sunshine  lit  up 


TJie  Sealed  Pi'ovinccs  of  the  Czar.  1 3 

here  and  there  some  jeweled  shrine  or  malachite 
column.  Tapers  glimmered  faintly  before  the 
numerous  Icons.  Gold  and  silver,  marble, 
bronze,  and  lapis  lazuli,  glowed  faintly  or  slum- 
bered in  darkness.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the 
odor  of  incense,  while  over  the  thousands  pros- 
trate in  prayer,  one  deep  grand  voice  breathed  a 
benediction:  "Peace  be  unto  you;  peace  be 
unto  you."  Verily  one  could  almost  fancy  that 
peace  had  come  unto  Russia,  until,  turning,  they 
caught  through  an  open  doorway  a  glimpse  of 
the  distant  "  Peter  and  Paul." 

St.  Petersburg  is  a  grand  city  as  to  distances 
and  general  effect.  Her  river  is  superb,  her 
squares  immense,  her  churches  and  monuments 
surpass  any  in  Europe ;  but  the  architecture  of 
her  houses  and  palaces  strikes  me  as  most  in- 
ferior. The  Winter  Palace  is  simply  immense, 
but  neither  grand  nor  beautiful  inside  or  out. 
The  "  Hermitage  "  presents  a  notable  exception, 
and  is  certainly  a  very  pleasing  structure,  while 
its  portico  stands  unrivaled  in  Europe.  The 
caryatides  thereon  are  colossal,  and  were  carved. 


14  Trans- Caspia  : 

I  believe,  by  an  uneducated  Finn.  If  so,  he 
could  give  lessons  to  most  of  his  craft  on  this 
globe.  I  do  not  know  their  equal.  But,  how- 
ever, as  this  is  to  be  a  journal  of  Asia,  I  will  say 
no  more  about  this  city  of  the  North. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 5 


CHAPTER    II. 

May  2 2d. 

I  HAD  a  sample  of  Russian  red  tape  and 
slowness  to-day.  My  application  for  per- 
mission to  pass  the  Pamirs  went  in  on  Saturday 
last.  This  is  Tuesday.  Yesterday  was  fete 
day,  Sunday  ditto,  to-morrow  ditto.  I  went  this 
morning,  with  our  military  attache — a  very  nice 

fellow,    by    the    way — to    General  ,  to    see 

whether  the  permission  could  not  be  hurried 
somewhat,  as  the  weather  here  is  nasty  and  we 
want  to  get  into  the  sunshine,  of  which  we  will 
probably    have    more    than    enough    before    we 

reach    the  Vale    of   Roses.     General    was 

only  approached  after  much  formality  and  the 
passing  in  review  of  many  aide-de-camps. 
However,  we  reached  him  at  last — reached  him 
in  his  inner  sanctum,  surrounded  by  numerous 
war  maps  of  this  terrible  empire,  conspicuous 
among  which  were  those  of  Turkistan  and  the 
Pamirs.     Of  course,   Russia    absolutely  controls 


1 6  Trans-  Caspia  : 

all  that  section,  and  the  desired  permit  could  be 
given  in  five  minutes  and  with  few  strokes  of 
the  pen.  Yet  this  comfortable  official  looked  us 
calmly  in  the  eyes,  knowing  that  he  was  deliver- 
ing himself  of  nonsense,  and  knowings  that  we 
were  fully  aware  of  that  fact,  and  assured  us 
that  the  minister  of  war  would  be  most  happy  to 
ask  the  Governor-General  of  Turkistan  for  our 
permission,  but  that  it  must  be  done  by  numer- 
ous telegrams  to  that  distant  region,  all  of  which 
would  take  some  days,  and  they  had  only  been 
at  work  on  it  "  four."  He  would  be  happy  to 
do  all  he  could,  but  we  must  await  the  pleasure 
of  those  rulers  of  the  Far  East.*  So  we  bowed 
deeply  and  departed. 

I  know  of  no  more  dreary  place  for  tourists 
than  St.  Petersburg  in  bad  weather,  when  the 
rain  is  coming  down  in  torrents.  After  one  has 
done  the  sights  of  the  town,  there  is  nothing  for 
it  but  to  retire  to  one's  hotel,  which  is  far  from 
good,  but  good  as  Russian  hotels  go.  I  was 
told    by   a    foreign    secretary,    whom    I    met    at 

*  The  Governor-General  at  Tashkend,  the  Ameer  of  Bokhara,  the 
Governor  of  Askerbad,  and  the  Governor  of  Osh. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 7 

dinner  last  night,  that  it  was  for  strangers  in 
winter  most  desolate.  If  you  do  not  possess 
your  own  home  and  do  not  care  for  society,  you 
are  dreary,  indeed.  The  "  Islands "  are,  of 
course,  closed,  most  of  the  bridges  over  the 
Neva  being  taken  away  until  the  ice  goes  out  in 
April.  There  are  but  few  cafes  in  the  town. 
The  Opera  and  French  theater  form  the  stock 
of  play-houses,  to  get  into  either  of  which  you 
must  be  "booked"  weeks  ahead.  Day  com- 
mences at  1 1  A.M.  and  ends  at  2  p.m.,  when 
darkness  and  the  snows  come  down  over  Russia. 
The  rich  who  live  here  make  life  gay,  but  God 
keep  the  poor!  One  can  not  but  contrast  these 
wretched  peoples  with  the  happy,  free-from-care 
darkies  of  our  Southern  States.  There  is  never 
any  music  or  banjo  playing  here.  One  never 
sees  a  dancing  bear  surrounded  by  dancing 
people.  It  is  all  sodden  wretchedness  for  the 
poor  of  Russia. 

The  authorities  have  delivered  their  ultimatum 
as  to  an  Englishman  whom  we  still  had  hopes 
of  getting  through.  They  will  not  allow  him  to 
go    under  any   circumstances.     We    had    hoped 


1 8  Trails-  Caspia  : 

that  he  might  be  allowed  to  pass  as  a  servant  or 
secretary ;  but  no,  it  must  be  given  up,  and 
to-day's  mail  carries  two  letters  to  London  that 
will  make  him  blue  as  indigo.  It  would  have 
been  an  excellent  thing  for  one  in  his  position, 
an  officer,  to  make  the  tour ;  and  then  again,  he 
must  be  back  at  his  Indian  post  in  August,  and 
must  now  go  via  the  oft-traveled  route  of  the 
Red  Sea.  I  am  warned  by  the  authorities  to  be 
careful  and  state  upon  every  occasion  that  I  am 
an  American  ;  and  to-day  I  spent  an  hour  plod- 
ding the  streets  in  a  pouring  rain  in  a  vain 
search  for  an  American  flag,  and  very  odd  it 
seemed  not  to  be  able  to  find  that  of  which 
every  child  at  home  has  dozens. 

Desiring  to  secure  the  visa  of  the  Chinese 
minister,  I  sent  my  passport  there  to-day,  only 
to  have  it  returned  with  the  information  that  the 
entire  embassy  had  gone  for  a  several  days' 
picnic  to  Finland.  To-morrow  will  be  another 
fete  day,  during  which  nothing  will  be  done,  but 
we  shall  move  southward  on  Thursday,  and  wait 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Caucasus  at  Tiflis,  which, 
by  the  way,  means  "warm  spring."  Even  if  one 
misses  the   Pamirs,  the  Caucasus  is  well  worth 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai'.  1 9 

a  journey  of  seventy-four  hours  by  railway  to 
see,  although  a  railway  journey  in  Russia  is  flat, 
stale,  and  most  unprofitable. 

May  25th. 
News  came  last  night  from  our  legation  that 
Russia  had  granted  my  pass,  but  the  same  mes- 
senger brought  her  final  refusal  to  pass  B.,  of 
England.  A  telegram  came  from  London  that 
my  Chinese  passport  was  also  en  route.  So  we 
start  to-morrow,  and  it  rests  now  only  with 
myself  and  the  good  God  as  to  whether  I  go 
beyond  Tiflis.  We  owe  much  to  the  kindness 
of  Prince  G.,  who  has  given  us  several  let- 
ters and  introductions  that  will  prove  of  ines- 
timable service,  not  the  least  being  that  to  his 
guide  and  servant  near  Osh,  whose  services  he 
has  placed  at  our  disposal,  stipulating  only  that 
we  return  hini  from  Bombay  to  Prince  G.'s 
estate  in  Odessa,  and  not  allow  him  to  go  to 
America,  that  Mecca  of  all  the  world.*  Prince 
G.  has  made  the  tour  both  ways,  and,  knowing 
the  route,  has  given  us  a  tracer.  We  learn 
that  near  Hunza  Naga,  to  the  north  of  Gilgit,  we 

*  On  reaching  Margeland,  we  discovered    that    the  man  was  in 
jail  for  robbing  his  master. 


20  Trans-  Caspia  : 

may  have  some  trouble.  Therefore  I  purchase 
another  revolver,  with  which  I  have  not  the 
slightest  doubt  I  shall  do  myself  more  harm  than 
the  enemy. 

There  is  quite  a  discussion  on  between  De  B. 
and  myself  concerning  the  time  necessary  to 
make  the  passage  from  Osh  to  Gilgit.  Prince 
G.  says  "  one  month,"  De  B.  two  and  a  half. 
The  latter  would  bring  our  arrival  about  Novem- 
ber I  St,  or  long  after  the  snows  had  set  in  on  the 
mountains.  If  such  is  the  case,  I  do  not  make 
the  trip.  We  are  not  explorers,  and  can  not 
give  the  world  any  information  it  does  not 
already  possess.  That  being  the  case,  I  am 
not  disposed  to  risk  a  winter  on  the  Himalayas. 
On  my  part,  this  is  supposed  to  be  a  pleasure 
tour,  and  I  do  not  think  that  could  be  called,  by 
the  most  enthusiastic  traveler,  "  pleasure."  It 
will  take  us  some  time  to  get  up  our  train  of 
ponies,  etc.,  at  Samarcand,  and  we  must  make 
a  detour  to  Tashkend  to  visit  the  governor- 
general,  some  two  hundred  miles  of  a  detour. 
But  it  must  be  done.  De  B.  dotes  on  governor- 
generals,  maharajas,  and  their  kind. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  2 1 


CHAPTER    III. 

Ex  ROUTE,  June  25th, 

ST.  PETERSBURG,  with  its  rain  and  mists, 
its  stately  churches,  and  its  plaster  palaces, 
has  vanished.  Moscow,  in  all  its  oriental  gor- 
geousness,  is  on  view  from  our  railway  carriage. 
The  gold  domes  of  St.  Savior's,  surrounded  by 
the  many  belfries  of  the  Kremlin,  and  the  vast 
spread  of  the  city,  all  red,  green,  and  blue, 
seems  to  float  in  a  sea  of  emeralds.  The  view  is 
something  like  that  over  Delhi,  yet  how  differ- 
ent! Yonder  is  Sparrow  Hill,  from  which  Na- 
poleon first  saw  the  city,  and  just  below  one 
catches  a  glimpse  of  the  nunnery  where  Peter 
the  Great  shut  up  his  sister.  As  we  passed 
from  one  station  to  the  other  this  morning,  we 
encountered  one  of  those  sad  bands  of  prisoners 
so  common  in  Russia — two  women  and  a  man, 
from  whose  faces  all  hope  had  long  since  died 
out.     They  were  bound  to  far  Siberia,  a  journey 


2  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

as  long  as  ours.  We  are  also  going  by  "  order 
of  the  Czar,"  but  how  different  the  modes  of 
travel !  Guarded  by  five  soldiers,  they  passed 
on  with  downcast  heads,  while  we,  attended  by 
the  same  number  of  obsequious  porters,  went 
merrily  by  them.  They  did  not  even  look  at  us, 
and  their  world  paid  no  attention  to  them. 
"  Only  some  of  the  poor,  and  there  are  many 
such."  This  is  ancient  Russia,  ruled  aforetimes 
by  that  suitor  of  the  good  Queen  Bess  of  En- 
gland, "  Ivan  the  Terrible."  He  sleeps  under 
one  of  those  domes  yonder,  where  daily  thou- 
sands of  his  subjects  kiss  his  forehead,  a  spot  of 
which  is  shown  through  a  hole  in  his  coffin. 

The  winters  are  not  quite  so  terrible  here  as 
in  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  pine  trees  are  losing 
a  little  of  that  sad  droop,  telling  of  the  heavy 
snows  that  bend  them  downward  through  so 
many  months.  As  I  awakened  this  morning, 
the  sun  was  just  rising  from  behind  a  forest  of 
thick  pines,  whose  waving  branches  across  his 
red  disk  looked  like  the  tails  of  many  wolves. 
One  is  glad  to  be  behind  wooden  walls,  for  it  is 
never   quite    certain    there    may   not    be   wolves 


The  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar 


-vD 


around  at  any  time.  Indeed,  in  winter  they 
penetrate  to  the  suburbs  of  the  greater  cities, 
and  render  it  unsafe  to  be  out  alone  in  any 
village  of  the  empire. 

This  land  is  the  native  spot  for  the  lily  of  the 
valley.  At  every  station  we  are  bombarded  by 
boys  carrying  high  baskets  of  the  lovely  flowers, 
and  we  are  told  that  they  grow  luxuriantly  all  up 
and  down  the  Volga.  It  will  take  us  forty  hours 
to  make  the  journey  from  Moscow  to  Rostoff,  but 
we  are  comfortably  settled  in  a  compartment, 
which  we  bid  fair  to  keep  to  ourselves,  so  we 
shall  not  mind  it  greatly,  and  will  be  amply  re- 
paid for  the  hours  spent  therein  if  we  only  have 
fine  weather  for  the  passage  of  the  Caucasus. 
Strangle  that  those  lilies  should  be  here  !  One 
associates  them  with  France  and  the  sunny 
South,  not  with  frozen  Russia.  Yet  here  they 
are,  and  one  bright-faced  boy  tosses  a  huge 
bunch  in  at  our  window  as  the  train  moves  off. 

As  I  gaze  over  these  vast  plains  of  the 
empire,  I  can  not  but  wonder  where  all  the 
millions  of  her  people  are  keeping  themselves. 
The   towns  and    villages  appear  to    have  many 


2  4  Titans-  Caspia  : 

more  buildings  than  are  necessary.  Few  people 
are  seen  at  the  stations,  few  seen  over  the 
boundless  green  floor  that  stretches  away  to 
the  horizon,  broken  by  scraggy  trees  and  now 
and  then  by  green  balloon-domed  churches. 
The  land  seems  ridh,  and  under  a  progressive 
rule  should  blossom  like  the  rose,  but  what 
incentive  have  these  people  to  make  more  than 
will  keep  body  and  soul  together.  We  shall 
cover  some  twelve  hundred  miles,  a  small  frac- 
tion of  the  empire,  between  the  Capital  and 
Rostoff,  near  the  Sea  of  Azov,  all  under  the 
absolute  rule  of  one  man,  trembling  for  his 
life  in  his  guarded  palace  at  Gatchine,  forced 
by  fate  into  a  position  terrible  to  think  of,  into 
an  existence  certainly  not  much  better  worth 
the  living  than  are  those  of  the  wretchedly 
poor  throughout  his  dominions.  While  in  ad- 
dition he  is  held  personally  responsible  for 
every  act  of  cruelty  throughout  all  his  vast 
empire.  Acts  that  he  knows  not  of  and  is 
powerless    to  prevent. 

Our  third    day   southward    brings    a   change. 
The  air  has  suddenly  become  balmy  and  spring- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  2  5 

like,  and  the  grass  is  of  a  tender  green.  Over 
the  boundless  floor  dash  companies  of  horse- 
men— Cossacks.  The  country  resembles  por- 
tions of  the  Holy  Land.  Suddenly,  as  if 
by  magic,  five  lofty  mountains  spring  into 
view,  and  there,  away  to  the  right,  like  a  pile 
of  clouds,  rises  Mt.  Elburz,  Europe's  grandest 
mountain,  whose  peak  soars  four  thousand 
feet  higher  than  Mt.  Blanc.  From  this  point 
it  rises  solitary  and  alone  from  the  plains, 
because  of  the  distance,  which  so  far  render 
its  companions  invisible.  Here  the  watering 
places  begin,  the  one  we  are  coming  to  being 
guaranteed  to  make  good  and  sound  all  dis- 
eased livers,  and  solve  Mallock's  problem. 
This  is  the  great  granary  of  Europe.  In  fact, 
the  soil  of  the  entire  empire  looks  rich  enough 
to  provide  food  for  all  the  world,  if  only  her 
people  were  encouraged  to  cultivate  it  to  its 
full  capacity.  The  country  grows  more  pleas- 
ing as  we  approach  the  mountains,  while  the 
air  comes  ladened  with  the  perfume  of  the 
acacia  tree,  whose  white  blossoms  brush  our 
carriage  windows  as  we    move    onward.      I    am 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tke  Czar.  2  7 

interrupted  by  the  porter.  His  intense  desire 
to  keep  every  atom  of  dust  out  of  this  car 
makes  us  rather  uncomfortable.  These  Euro- 
peans, outside  of  England,  have  absolutely  no 
idea  of  real  cleanliness  or  true  sanitary  arrange- 
ments. Here  is  a  new  and  very  handsome 
car,  with  roomy  adjustable  chairs,  which  make 
it  a  very  pleasant  sitting-room.  At  one  end 
are  three  or  four  state-rooms,  all  one  could 
wish  for.  But  there  all  semblance  of  comfort 
or  even  decency  ceases,  and  one  comes  to  the 
lavatories,  etc.,  etc.  The  former  possess  a 
faucet  from  which  water  will  flow  only  when 
you  hold  it  tightly,  and  when  it  does  come  it 
squirts  up  your  sleeve,  over  your  head,  down 
your  back — any  place,  in  fact,  save  in  the  basin, 
which,  by  the  way,  is  purposely  so  arranged 
that  the  fluid  immediately  runs  out.  The  closet 
is  simply  vile,  and  it  never  enters  the  head 
of  the  porter  to  in  any  way  cleanse  it,  although 
he  will  spend  an  hour  on  one  window  which 
shows  outside.  So  it  is  in  all  hotels.  France, 
Germany,  and  Italy  in  the  larger  cities  have 
much    improved    of   late    years,   but   as    for    the 


2  8  Trans-  Caspia  : 

rest  the  less  said  about  it  the  better.  One 
ceases  to  wonder  that  cholera  has  an  abiding 
place    at    all    seasons    in    these    countries. 

Vladikavkas,  "  This  side  of  the  Caucasus," 
but  to  my  mind  very  far  the  other  side  of  all 
the  rest  of  the  world,  is  a  wide-streeted,  sunny 
town,  overtowered  by  gigantic  mountains  and 
surrounded  by  running  streams  and  green 
meadows;  wretched  hotels  where  not  one  word 
of  any  thing  save  Russian  is  spoken  or  under- 
stood. It  is  only  after  several  trials  that  we 
succeed  in  obtaining  rooms  for  the  night  at  a 
hotel  whose  name  I  do  not  know  and  shall  not 
ask.  We  finally  discover  a  man  who  speaks 
German,  and  he  is  instantly  dispatched  to  the 
diligence  office  to  pay  for  our  seats  to  Tiflis. 
They  had  been  secured  by  telegraph  from 
Moscow,  but  because  we  did  not  appear  within 
half  an  hour  of  the  arrival  of  our  train,  ii  p.  m., 
they  have  been  given  to  others,  and  we  are 
forced  .  either  to  remain  another  twenty-four 
hours  here,  or  go  to  the  expense  of  a  separate 
conveyance.     This    last     is    decided    upon,    and 


The  Sealed  Pi'-ovinces  of  the  Czar.  29 

with  strict    orders    to   have  it  ready  at  7  a.  m., 
we   depart   to    seek    a    Httle    rest. 

Seven  a.  m.  brings  a  man  who  calmly  informs 
us  that  the  horses  can  not  be  ready  until  ten 
o'clock.  No  use  swearing,  though  I  am  afraid 
we  did.  One  can  not  but  think  that  stage 
and  hotel  are  in  connivance  to  detain  us  here 
and  to  force  the  separate  conveyance,  which 
is,  of  course,  much  more  expensive  (50  roubles 
against  25),  upon  us.  Perhaps  they  have  also 
had  time  to  inform  their  friends  the  banditti 
on  the  mountains.  At  any  rate  we  hunt  up 
our  revolvers,  and  I  discover,  after  conspicu- 
ously displaying  mine  and  sending  off  my 
trunks,  that  the  thing  is  not  loaded,  and  my 
ammunition  is  for  the  day  quite  beyond  my 
reach,  all  of  which,  I  doubt  not,  is  an  in- 
terposition of  Divine  Providence  in  our  favor, 
our  danger  being  greater  with  than  without 
fire-arms.  This  is  always  so  at  such  times. 
Those  who  may  attack  us  are  of  course  better 
armed,  and  would  fire  on  our  first  movement, 
life  being  nothing  to  them  ;  whereas,  otherwise, 
I    fancy    they    would    simply    rob    us.     Russian 


3  o  Ti'ans-  Caspia  : 

inspection  is  a  blessing  on  this  tour,  as  our 
every  step  is  followed,  and  we  ean  not  "dis- 
appear." It  is  known  at  all  times  just  where 
we  are  and  are  going,  and  our  arrival  at  the 
next  point  is  looked  for ;  hence  a  delay  here 
of  six  hours  even  would  send  the  forces  of 
the  empire  in  search.  So  it  will  be  in  Turkis- 
tan.  We  are  not  given  a  passport  or  any 
sort  of  credentials  to  that  land,  but  simply 
notified  that  we  are  permitted  to  travel  therein, 
the  notification  coming  in  the  shape  of  an  in- 
formal note  to  our  legation,  and  we  have  been 
asked  by  what  route  we  desire  to  move. 
Within  twenty-four  hours  of  the  granting  of 
the  permission  every  point  in  that  vast  and 
lonely  land,  lonely  to  us  because  of  our  isola- 
tion amongst  thousands  of  natives,  has  been 
advised  and  is  lookino-  for  our  comingf.  There- 
fore,  when  one  travels  the  unbeaten  paths  of 
farther  Asia,  it  is  well  to  go  with  the  benedic- 
tion   and    under   the    eye    of  the    Czar. 

Ten  o'clock  finds  us  en  route  for  Tiflis.  Our 
carriage,  an  ordinary  victoria,  being  loaded  with 
luggage    of    all    sorts    and    of    the    most    non- 


r-     > 


3  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

descript  kind.  Two  huge  rolls  contain  our  beds 
and  bedding,  four  tin  boxes  our  perishable 
"  togs  "  (one  must  have  a  dress  coat  even  in  the 
Pamirs),  two  large  kodaks,  a  rifle,  a  shot-gun, 
four  revolvers,  numerous  hand-bags,  Indian 
hats,  etc.  De  B.  thinks  so  much  of  his  tin 
boxes  that  he  has  had  them  incased  in  wood,  the 
result  being  that  they  look  like  baby  coffins,  and 
our  arrest  for  infanticide  has  been  imminent 
several  times.  Mine  are  plain  tin  boxes,  painted 
black,  the  "  U.  S.  A."  thereon  havinof  caused 
me  to  be  most  profoundly  saluted  by  all  the 
officers  met  with.  However,  all  is  at  last  tucked 
away,  and  we  are  off  to  the  mountains,  bowled 
along  at  a  rapid  rate  by  four  horses  abreast. 
Every  ten  versts  they  are  changed,  so  that  a 
smart  trot,  or,  more  often,  a  rapid  gallop,  is  kept 
up  all  day  long,  though  we  ascend  to  some 
seven  thousand  feet. 

The  Caucasus  are  beautiful,  and  rise  like  a 
vast  triangle,  with  the  perpendicular  toward 
Europe.  Therefore  the  view  from  the  north  is 
much  grander  than  from  the  south.  Prominent 
from     amongst    the    great     snow    peaks    soars. 


34  Trans-  Caspia  : 

second  only  to  Elburz,  which  I  spoke  of  yes- 
terday, the  glittering  cone  of  the  Kasbec,  where 
the  tortured  Prometheus  hung  quivering.  We 
pass  it  to-day  about  4  p.  m.,  as  we  rattle  along 
over  the  superbly  built  military  road,  which  our 
country  holds  nothing  of  its  kind  to  equal.  All 
along  the  pass  rise  towers,  and  in  many  in- 
stances whole  castles  and  tow^ns,  all  in  ruins 
now%  showing  the  work  of  the  robbers  of  old  ; 
and  not  so  very  old  either,  as  this  road  ten  years 
back  was  not  safe,  nor  can  we  rest  assured  that 
we  will  not  be  robbed  of  our  luggage  even 
now.  It  happened  not  long  since  to  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Tiflis,  who,  en  route  to  greet  the  Czar 
at  Vladikavkas,  had  his  entire  luggage  stolen 
from  the  back  of  his  carriage  without  being 
aware  thereof  until  he  reached  his  destination. 
This  is  the  only  portion  of  Europe  where  I 
have  found  absolutely  no  English,  French,  Ger- 
man, or  Italian  spoken.  Nothing  save  Russian  ; 
and  when  you  are  presented  with  a  bill  of  fare  it 
is  "  Greek  "  indeed,  that  language,  as  you  know, 
using  the  Greek  letters.  These  hotels  are  of 
the  most  primitive  sort.      You  are  charged  extra 


a 
w 
w 

> 
> 


2,6  Trans-  Caspia  : 

for  towels,  though    they  do   furnish  you  with  a 
small  amount  of  water. 

Snow  peaks  rise  around  you  in  bewildering 
confusion  on  this  Dariel  Pass,  and  you  drive 
through  miles  of  snow  before  you  reach  the 
summit.  The  scenery  reminds  one  of  that  of 
the  Engadine  and  the  Stelvio,  though  I  do  not 
think  the  mountain  of  the  Kasbec  quite  equals 
the  "  Ortler  Spitz,"  and  all  other  mountains  are 
as  nothing  when  once  one  has  gazed  on  Kinchin- 
jinga  from  Darjeeling.  However,  the  Caucasus 
have  a  beauty  peculiarly  their  own,  and  every 
peak  and  crag,  every  tower  and  castle,  is  cov- 
ered with  some  legend  of  robbery  and  murder  in 
the  old,  free  Georgian  days.  That  is  all  over 
now,  and  your  aforetime  robber  drives  your  coach 
most  dextrously.  They  are  a  fine-looking  race, 
these  drivers,  very  dark  and  stalwart.  Our  last 
driver  to-day  was  the  very  picture  of  "  Darius 
the  Kinor  "  as  one  sees  him  in  the  carvinofs  from 
Babylon — tall  and  majestic,  his  fine  dark  face 
and  jet-black  curly  hair  and  beard  surmounted 
by  one  of  these  huge  peaked  turbans  of  Astra- 
kan,  his  figure  robed  in  the  ulster-like  garment 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  3  7 

common  to  his  people,  while  his  boots  would 
have  done  justice  to  Bond  street.  We  rather 
hesitated  to  offer  him  the  usual  fee  when  we 
changed  him.  Twenty  kopeks  (ten  cents)  did 
seem  small  payment  to  this  Assyrian  monarch. 
He  evidently  thought  so,  too,  for  he  swore  at 
us.  It  is  dark  again  ere  we  reach  where  we  put 
up  for  the  night,  leaving  sixty  miles  more  for 
to-morrow. 

The  first  signs  that  the  manners  and  customs 
of  Asia  were  being  gradually  neared  were  at 
Vladikavkas,  where  an  ordinary  Brussels  rug 
was  nailed  up  on  the  wall  as  a  thing  of  beauty. 
Here,  on  the  top  of  the  range,  the  rugs  are  of 
inferior  workmanship,  but  are  Turkish  work ; 
and  as  I  look  from  my  window  on  arising,  I  am 
convinced,  by  a  lot  of  camels  quietly  browsing 
near  by,  that  this  is  Asia,  and  not  Switzerland. 
A  few  notes  of  barbaric  music  clash  into  sound 
and  sink  into  silence,  and  the  dogs  have  that 
wolfish  look  so  common  to  those  of  the  Far 
East.  From  here  onward  until  we  descend  into 
India,  we  shall  have  to  do  with  tribes,  and  not 
nations,   save   where   the   leaven    of   Russia   and 


38  Trans- Caspia  : 

England  affects  the  whole.  I  trust  that  the 
protection  of  those  nations  may  preserve  us 
both,  if  not  for  our  own  sakes,  at  least  for  some 
of  those  at  home.  We  know  that  these 
Caucasians  are  superb  riders,  and  yet  if  we 
were  to  attempt  to  ride  so  at  home  the  result 
would  be  disastrous.  The  knees  are  very  much 
drawn  up,  so  much  so  that  only  the  very  tip  of  a 
pointed  shoe  touches  the  stirrup-iron,  and  often 
not  even  that.  These  horses  keep  up  a  con- 
stant dancing  motion,  which  would  dismount  us 
with  but  such  a  hold  on  their  backs.  But  these 
men  seem  to  be  perched  securely,  and  manage 
to  carry  a  gun  or  two,  with  several  pistols  and 
dirks  strung  around  their  belts.  Cartridges 
are  arranged  across  their  breasts  on  their  dark 
coats,  the  skirts  of  which,  spreading  out  far  back 
over  their  horses,  produce,  with  the  animals' 
flowing  manes  and  tails,  a  sweeping,  graceful, 
but  rather  funereal  effect. 

Our  second  day's  journey  is  entirely  down  the 
southern  slope  of  the  mountains,  where  the 
scenery  loses  nearly  all  its  ruggedness,  and  be- 
comes almost  as  "pastoral"  as  our  Alleghanies. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  39 

Not  patriotic,  that,  but  true.  Our  eastern  hills 
do  seem  almost  pasture  lands  by  comparison 
with  the  stupendous  cliffs  of  Asia.  The  day's 
ride  is  very  beautiful,  and  as  we  fortunately  have 
slight  showers,  there  is  no  dust,  while  the  air  is 
ladened  with  all  the  delicious  fresh  odors  of 
spring.  A  Vermont  boy  would  be  amused  at 
the  attempts  of  these  people  toward  tilling  the 
soil.  The  plow  used  is  of  the  most  primitive 
description,  and  is  drawn  by  ten  yoke  of  young 
steers,  guarded  and  conducted  by  seven  men. 
The  field  that  they  are  at  work  upon  certainly  is 
not  more  than  three  acres  in  extent,  and  at  their 
rate  of  progress  it  should  be  ready  for  planting 
about  October  ist,  this  being  only  May.  The 
Vermont  boy,  with  a  good  plow  and  stout  pair 
of  horses,  would  do  the  whole  thing  between  the 
hours  of  milking  and  his  noonday  dinner,  even 
allowing  time  for  the  removal  of  the  usual  rocks 
to  be  found  on  all  New  England  farms.  Nu- 
merous ruined  castles  and  towers  are  passed, 
perched  high  up  on  the  mountains  or  close  to 
the  rushing  river.  The  religion  of  the  people 
has  chano-cd  to   Mohammedan,  and  all    Russian 


40  Trans-  Caspia  : 

churches  are  now  inclosed  in  high,  strong, 
fortress-like  walls ;  otherwise  such  jewels  as 
adorn  their  shrines  would  prove  too  tempting 
to  the  followers  of  the   Prophet. 

Down  at  last  into  the  valley  of  TiHis !  To  our 
amazement,  the  heat  is  not  great,  and  the  valley 
reminds    us    of    many    in    France.      Hedges    of 


Russian  Church  and  Fortress  in  the  Caucasus. 

primrose,  poppies,  and  corn  flowers,  roses  and 
cherries;  yet  with  all  its  resemblance  to  France, 
there  is  a  certain  indescribable  somethino-  that 
recalls  the  "  Land  of  the  Vulture,"  and  we 
should  not  be  surprised  to  see  the  minarets  of 
Cairo  rise  from  the  valley  before  us.  The 
resemblance  is  even  strono-er  when  Tiflis  comes 
in  sight.     The  ancient  capital  of  Georgia  looks 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  4 1 

very  eastern,  very  oriental,  in  the  evening  sun- 
light. But  the  first  entrance  into  her  streets 
convinces  us  that  we  are  still  under  the  dominion 
of  the  Czar.  Russian  police  stand  here,  there, 
and  every-where,  and  the  wide  berth  that  is 
given  them  demonstrates  better  than  words  the 
control  that  government  exercises  over  this 
southern  possession.  There  is  a  monument 
near  the  western  entrance  of  the  town,  on  the 
spot  where  the  Czar  Paul  nearly  lost  his  life 
through  a  runaway  team.  It  would  not  have 
been  a  bad  thing  if  the  accident  had  succeeded 
in  ridding  Russia  of  that  licentious  monarch. 
I  fancy  that  the  Empress  Catherine  imported 
her  "particular  friends"  from  this  section.  The 
men  are  very  handsome,  but  of  the  far-famed 
Georgian  w^omen  I  can  say  very  little.  From 
here  the  Turks  of  old  procured  their  beauties, 
and  the  types  which  pleased  them  are  still 
plentiful  in  the  streets  of  Tifiis — huge  in  size, 
flabby,  chalky  skins,  faces  w^ith  no  ray  of  feeling 
or  intelligence.  That  was  their  idea  of  beauty, 
and  they  could  not  have  come  to  a  better 
market. 


42  Traits-  Caspia 


CHAPTER    IV. 


TIFLIS. 


IT  is  a  vast  comfort  after  the  inferior  hotels 
of  Russia — inferior  not  so  much  in  the 
structure  as  in  the  management — to  land  at  the 
very  clean  and  delightful  Hotel  De  Londres 
here.  Mine  host  and  his  mother  are  Ger- 
mans, hence  the  cleanliness.  It  gives  one  a 
homelike  feeling  to  be  so  welcomed,  con- 
vinces one  that  after  all  the  traveler  "  finds 
his  warmest  welcome  in  an  inn."  How  that 
quotation  recalls  the  splendors  of  the  Ponce 
de  Leon,  and  the  senseless,  useless  life  one 
leads  therein.  But  let  us  come  back  six  thou- 
sand miles  or  more  to  Tiflis,  the  last  few  miles 
of  which  have  been  very  dusty  and  we  descend 
from  our  carriage  a  sight  to  behold,  and  in  no 
very  good  humor.  Cross?  Yes,  somewhat! 
Even  I  have  been  known  to  be  cross  now  and 
then.      Nor  is  my  temper — our  tempers  I  should 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  43 

say  on  this  occasion — improved  by  having  a 
porter  drop  our  medicine  chest  and  smash 
several  bottles  therein,  thereby  soaking  the 
whole  with  their  contents.  However,  the  ac- 
cident is  not  without  its  good  side,  as  the 
broken  bottles  contained  cholera  mixture,  so 
no  matter  what  we  take  it  will  contain  some- 
thing useful  for  our  perhaps  unknown  disease. 
We  can  not,  therefore,  go  far  wrong  in  the 
administration  of  drugs.  B.  knows  absolutely 
nothinp-  about  drucrs.  I  am  somewhat  better 
informed,  through  sad  experiences,  so  that  un- 
less I  am  insensible  I  can  keep  an  eye  on  him, 
otherwise  he  would  be  apt  to  administer  flea 
powder  for  a  cold,  give  me  a  bath  in  pure  am- 
monia, or  perhaps  recklessly  administer  all  the 
contents  of  the  case  at  once. 

How  dirty  we  are,  how  delicious  the  huge 
baths  of  the  town  feel  to  our  tired  bodies. 
The  water  is  naturally  hot  and  I  sit  for  half  an 
hour  under  a  strong  spout.  There  is  abso- 
lutely nothing  that  they  will  not  furnish  you 
at  these  bath  houses,  if  you  pay  for  it.  But 
all     things    are   very    expensive    at    Tiflis,    as    I 


44  Tj'ans-  Caspia  : 

discover  this  morning  when  I  desire  to  cable 
home — six  roubles  per  word  ($3.00)  ;  more 
than  from  Calcutta.  I  know  it  is  wrong,  pure 
robbery,  in  fact,  but  I  must  send  the  cable. 
As  the  rates  from  London  are  only  one  shilling 
per  word  to  New  York,  all  the  rest,  with  the 
exception  of  our  inland  rate  at  home,  goes  to 
the  lines  between  here  and  England,  or  to  the 
operator's  pocket  here,  which  is  much  more 
likely.  I  think  from  B.'s  actions  last  night  that 
he  must  have  partaken  of  some  of  the  mixed 
contents  of  that  medicine  chest — flea  powder,  I 
fear. 

By  the  way,  concerning  the  ride  from  Vla- 
dikavkas  to  Tiflis,  I  would  recommend  every 
one  to  take  a  carriage.  It  costs  more,  fifty-two 
roubles,  but  will  amply  repay.  The  stage  is 
always  slow  and  most  wearisome.  The  one  we 
missed,  and  which  started  three  hours  before 
us,  reached  here  four  hours  after  we  did. 
There  are  but  three  good  seats,  all  in  the 
second  class.  The  arrivals  at  the  stations  are 
very  late  and  the  departures  correspondingly 
early,  and    you  will    be    worn    out,  whereas   we 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  45 

traveled  at  a  rapid  pace  and  had  all  the  horses 
we  wanted  at  every  station ;  never  less  than 
four.  He  who  travels  in  his  own  conveyances 
is,  in  all  lands  and  especially  here,  an  English 
"Milord."  The  stage  even,  as  it  does  not 
carry  the  mails,  gives  place  to  him,  and  at  his 
disposal  are  the  best  rooms  and  horses.  The 
mail  goes  in  a  separate  well-guarded  convey- 
ance, traveling  night  and  day. 

As  is  the  case  with  so  much  in  the  East, 
Tiflis  does  not  bear  close  inspection.  It  is 
picturesque  from  a  distance  and  its  situation 
is  beautiful,  but  the  town  in  its  interior  is 
neither  one  nor  the  other,  and  there  is  not 
an  interesting  mosque  or  building  in  the  place. 
Its  bazaars  are  common-place,  and,  like  most 
bazaars,  dirty — but  not  picturesque  in  their 
dirt.  In  addition  they  are  absolutely  wanting 
in  all  that  peculiar  charm  which  makes  those 
of  Cairo  and  Tunis  so  delightful  to  wander 
through  and  linger  in ;  nor  does  one  find  here 
displayed  all  the  thousands  of  attractive  articles 
which  in  those  other  cities  cause  him  to  return 
ladened    to    his    hotel.     Through    the   center  of 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  47 

the  town  between  deep  walls  of  rock,  down 
which  pours  the  sewage  of  the  place,  sweeps 
the  river,  as  repulsive  looking  a  stream  as  I 
have  ever  seen.  This  hotel  is  an  oasis  amongst 
eastern  hotels  and  renders  Tiflis  bearable ;  other- 
wise the  three  days  I  am  forced  to  spend  here 
would  hang  heavy  on  my  hands,  though  I 
pass  much  time  in  wandering  alone  through 
the  town.  Fortunately  it  is  a  cool  season ; 
one  could  not  desire  more  magnificent  weather 
than    that    of   yesterday    and    to-day. 

Abbas,  the  guide,  arrived  from  Odessa  this 
morning.  He  is  better  than  I  expected,  and 
has  crossed  the  Pamirs  several  times,  as  well  as 
other  out-of-the-way  routes  in  Asia.  I  sincerely 
hope  he  will  turn  out  well.  Littledale,  the 
traveler,  gives  him  a  good  reputation,  though  he 
does  say  that  the  man  is  lazy.  His  ideas  as  to 
time  are  mixed,  to  say  the  least.  This  mornino" 
he  told  me  that  it  would  take  us  until  December 
I  St  to  reach  Cashmere,  and  an  hour  later  that 
the  15th  of  September  would  see  us  in  India. 
We  shall  see  what  we  shall  see. 

B.   insists   that    I    do   not  do  justice  to  Tifiis. 


48  Trans-  Caspia  : 

He  knows  nothing  of  the  other  oriental  cities — • 
hence  his  feelings,  which  are  deep,  very  deep. 
I  might  have  described  this  river  and  the  cliffs 
as  possessed  of  the  beauty  of  Eden,  but  it  would 
have  been  somewhat  wide  of  the  truth ;  I  might 
have  filled  these  bazaars  with  old  silver,  antique 
fire-arms  and  swords,  and  fairy  stuffs  of  all 
sorts  ;  ladened  their  air  with  the  perfume  of  the 
roses  and  lilies  ;  made  you  drink  delicious  coffee 
and  eat  "Turkish  delight"  therein,  while  you 
stared  at  the  veiled  women  and  gorgeously 
costumed  eunuchs ;  I  might  have  described  a 
mosque  that  would  surpass  that  of  "  Sultan 
Hassan.*'  But  I  fear,  had  you  come  here  and 
found  the  river  and  its  cliffs  repulsive,  the  ba- 
zaars full  of  all  that  is  unattractive,  the  coffee 
and  Turkish  delight  entirely  lacking,  ditto  the 
mosque,  you  might  have  voted  me  a  fraud.  It 
will  surely  be  better  to  find  this  capital  of  the 
Georgians  better  than  you  had  expected,  and 
if  you  pass  her  by,  contenting  yourself  with 
the  panorama  she  displays,  you  will  vote  her 
enchanting ;  for  the  world,  I  think,  holds  no 
more     superb     view     than     that     presented     by 


The  Sealed  Pi'ovinces  of  the  Czar.  49 

this  city  of  Tiflis  approached  from  the  great 
Dariel  Pass  over  the  Caucasus. 

The  Queen  Tamara — she  of  fame  and  ro- 
mance— reigned  in  rose-Iadened  Tifiis  some 
eight  hundred  years  ago.  She  was  wise  as 
she  was  beautiful,  and  during  her  time  the 
city  reached  its  greatest  height  of  prosperity. 
Then,  all  the  known  arts  and  sciences  flourished 
in  this  ancient  kingdom  ;  but  after  her  death, 
"  Tchinghiz  Khan"*  swept  like  a  black  cloud 
over  the  valley,  leaving  such  desolation  and 
destruction  that  Tiflis  has  never  recovered  her 
ancient  glory. 

I  met  this  morning  in  the  court  of  the  hotel 
an  Englishman,  who  has  been  living  here  for 
five  years — at  least  he  has  lived  in  the  country 
that  length  of  time  ;  and  when  I  questioned  him 
as  to  the  climate,  he  replied  that  to  those  who 
lived  here  hell  possessed  no  further  terrors,  that 
is,  in  the  matter  of  heat.  We  certainly  have 
been  most  fortunate.  It  is  quite  cool  to-day, 
the  rain  having  refreshed  every  thing.  Trees 
of  any  size  are  unknown  in  Georgia.      I  noticed 

*  Mereafter  I  shall  use  the  simpler  form  of  that  name. 


QUEEN    TAMARA. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  5 1 

in  crossing  the  Caucasus  that  nothing  larger 
than  a  scrub  was  to  be  seen :  no  forests  of 
stately  pines  near  the  summits,  no  dense  groves 
of  majestic  trees  lower  down,  no  "  isles  of  the 
forest"  spreading  around  one;  plenty  of  green, 
but  all  so  diminutive  that  even  the  telegraph 
wires  are  supported  on  rails  from  the  railroad, 
to  which  are  bound  sticks  of  timber  certainly 
not  more  than  ten  feet  long,  but  quite  as  long  as 
can  be  found  here,  or  anywhere  around  here. 
The  result  is  that  refuse  petroleum  is  the  usual 
fuel. 

To-morrow  we  start  for  Baku,  from  which 
Russia  draws  those  vast  stores  of  that  fluid 
which  enables  her  to  rival  our  "  Standard  oil." 
Baku  is  on  the  Caspian,  and  there  we  certainly 
should  find  it  hot,  the  level  of  that  inland  sea 
being  some  eighty-five  feet  lower  than  the 
Black. 

The  Standard  o{  the  2 2d  arrived  from  London 
this  morning  with  almost  one-third  of  its  princi- 
pal page  blotted  out  by  the  authorities.  I 
wonder  how  long  Russia  expects  that  such 
childish  treatment  of  people  in   this    nineteenth 


5  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

century  will  be  allowed  to  continue.  Surely,  a 
nation  whose  actions  will  not  stand  the  light  of 
day  through  a  free  press  is  in  a  strange  position, 
and  yet  her  people  submit,  and  have  long 
ceased  to  care  for  what  may  go  on  in  the  outside 
world. 

Abbas  has  just  returned  from  an  errand  of 
mine  concerning  some  lotion  for  the  hair,  for 
which  I  had  given  him  the  prescription.  One 
of  the  ingredients  is  cantharides.  These  chem- 
ists refused  to  make  it  up  without  a  Russian 
doctor's  prescription,  and  sent  me  word  that  "  I 
might  want  to  poison  some  one." 

TiFLis,  June  2,  1894. 
I  am  awakened  this  morning  by  a  burst  of 
martial  music,  and  find  that  the  town  is  all  alive 
with  soldiers.  It  does  not  take  long  for  a  trav- 
eler to  don  his  clothes,  and  I  am  soon  in  the 
public  square,  toward  which  the  military  are 
wending  their  way  from  all  directions.  At  its 
entrance  stands  a  small  Russian  church,  and  the 
music  of  the  many  bands  becomes  reverential 
and  tender  as  they  pass  the  holy  Icons,  although 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.  5  3 

their  selections  are  somewhat  singular,  "  Ta  ra 
ra  boom  da  ah"  being  most  conspicuous.  I 
confess  to  being  somewhat  shocked,  and  al- 
most look  to  see  one  particular  saint  in  a  long 
purple  garment  strike  into  a  skirt  dance.      But 


no  ;  neither  does  he  drift  into  a  waltz  as  the 
tender  notes  of  "Auf  Weidersehen  "  are  wafted 
on  the  air.  This  is  the  anniversary  of  the  day 
when  Russia  finally  settled,  in  the  conquest  of 
Schamyl,  the  Caucasus  question,  in  which  she 
employed  180,000  men  to  conquer  the  15,000 
of  that  robber  chieftain.  Chief  of  Daghestan 
was  Schamyl,  and  as  Russia  has  obliterated  that 


5  4  Trans-  Caspia  : 

country,  its  very  whereabouts  will  soon  be  for- 
gotten. It  included  these  mountains  and  the 
land  to  the  north-east  thereof  as  far  as  the 
mouth  of  the  Volga.  Schamyl  was  taken  first  to 
St.  Petersburor,  and  then  allowed  to  retire  to 
Mecca,  Russia  knowing  that  the  holy  well  in 
that  city  would  finish  him  off,  as  it  very  promptly 
did,  and  has  done  for  so  many  thousands.  To- 
day his  conquerors  celebrate  all  this  by  holding 
high  mass  in  the  gardens  here.  The  soldiers 
are  arranged  in  a  huge  square,  and  stand  at 
attention  as  the  general  passes  around  in  in- 
spection. Suddenly  he  stops  and  stares  with 
apparent  horror,  and  one  fancies,  not  only  by 
his  expression,  but  by  the  anxiety  depicted  on 
the  faces  of  his  staff,  that  at  least  a  plot  against 
the  entire  empire  has  been  unearthed.  I  con- 
fess I  laughed  aloud  when  I  saw  one  of  the  staff 
rush  forward  and  straighten  the  white  cap  of  a 
soldier,  it  having  become  cocked  over  his  left 
eye  as  he  was  "  presenting  arms,"  so  that  he 
could  not  arrange  it  himself.  I  fancy  that  he 
will  spend  the  night  in  the  guard-house,  and  I 


TJie  Sealed  Pj'ovinces  of  the  Czar.  5  5 

know  the  empire  must    shake    to    its  base  with 
such    a    terrible    matter. 

Russia  does  not  neglect  the  rehgious  welfare 
of  her  troops.  Daily  attendance  at  mass  is 
required,  and  to-day  her  priests,  gorgeous  in 
green  and  gold  and  purple,  hold  high  celebra- 
tion of  the  sacred  rite.  Then  one  and  all  are 
blessed,  and  with  a  fanfare  of  trumpets  the 
troops  move  off  to  their  barracks,  and  we  re- 
tire to  pack  up,  as  we  leave  at  noon  for  Baku. 


5  6  Trans-  Caspia  : 


CHAPTER   V. 

RAILROADS  here  are  conducted  in  a  some- 
what unusual  manner.  It  is  always  neces- 
sary to  go  to  the  station  at  least  half  an  hour 
before  the  time  of  starting,  and  even  then  you 
will  be  hurried  at  the  last.  I  fear  Abbas  is  little 
better,  if  any,  than  old  Thomas,  my  Indian 
servant.  At  least,  he  completely  loses  his  wits 
in  the  station  at  Tifiis,  and  I  am  forced  literally 
to  shake  him  once  or  twice  as  he  insists  upon 
running  after  every  one's  luggage  save  ours. 
The  confusion  is  enormous,  and  "worse  con- 
founded "  every  moment,  while  the  waiting- 
rooms  look  like  a  city  camping  out.  We  are 
just  one  hour  getting  booked  and  seated,  having 
had  in  that  time  the  usual  number  of  rows  with 
people  who  tried  to  impose  upon  us.  Settled  at 
last,  Abbas  informs  us  with  an  injured  air  that 
he  has  no  seat.  That  is  a  little  too  much.  We 
have    waited    on    him,    though    we    pay    for    the 


The  Sealed  Pi'0vi7ices  of  the  Czar.  5  7 

contrary.  Now  he  may  stand  if  he  can  not 
get  seated.  We  tell  him  so  promptly  and  he 
departs.  A  white-haired,  pleasant-faced  old 
gentleman  enters  our  compartment  with  his  arms 
ladened  with  roses,  of  which  he  presents  us  with 
a  handful.  His  smiles  and  his  flowers  come  like 
a  rift  of  sunshine  through  the  clouds. 

I  am  told  that  this  company  is  systematically 
robbed  by  its  employees.  It  is  a  constant  oc- 
currence for  the  conductors  to  waylay  people  as 
they  approach  the  booking  office.  After  assur- 
ing them  it  is  unnecessary  to  purchase  tickets, 
he  hustles  them  into  the  cars.  For  a  rouble  or 
so,  which,  of  course,  the  company  never  receives, 
they  travel  as  far  as  they  like.  All  goes  well 
unless  an  inspector  happens  to  board  the  train 
and  demand  a  look  at  the  tickets.  Then  the 
dead-beats  without  them  are  hustled  onto  the 
roofs  of  the  cars  and  told  to  "  lay  low."  This 
happened  not  long  since,  but,  unfortunately  for 
the  conspirators,  one  of  the  road  guards,  seeing 
the  roof  travelers,  imagined  that  something  was 
wrong,  and  flagged  the  train.  The  sudden 
stoppage   rolled   the  wretches    pell-mell    to    the 


5  8  Trans-  Caspia  : 

ground,  broken  legs,  arms,  and  many  bruises 
being  the  result.  That  stopped  the  nefarious 
traffic  for  a  time,  but  it  is  in  full  swing  once 
more. 

I  should  like  to  send  these  notes  home  as  I 
write  them,  but  I  fear  they  would  not  be 
allowed  to  pass  through  the  mails,  though  I 
have  said  comparatively  little  about  subjects  that 
have  been  so  exhaustively  treated  by  other 
travelers.  Russia  is  very  sore  over  what  has 
been  written,  and  does  not  mean  to  permit  any 
more  such  works  if  she  can  prevent  it.  But  can 
she  prevent  it  ?  People  from  afar  will  come  to 
Russia  and  will  exercise  that  freedom  of  speech 
to  which  they  have  been  born.  Therefore,  so 
long  as  they  write  the  truth,  Russia  must  expect 
much  from  their  pens  that  will  not  meet  with  her 
approval.  Those  who  come  from  progressive 
nations  to  this  absolute  monarchy  of  the  Middle 
Ages  must  be  struck  with  surprise  and  horror 
at  the  state  of  affairs  here  displayed.  Dazzled 
they  will  be  by  the  splendor  of  the  rich,  and 
horrified  by  the  condition  of  the  people  ;  and  so 
it  will  be,  and  will  be  written  of,  until  the  empire 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  59 

throws  off  her  chains  and  swings  into  hne  with 
progressive  Europe.  I  was  asked  yesterday 
whether  I  did  not  see  a  great  resemblance  be- 
tween the  "Steppes"  and  our  western  plains. 
Yes,  certainly,  so  far  as  the  part  which  nature 
has  to  play;  but  over  those  western  plains  the 
very  winds  seem  to  sweep  ladened  with  life  and 
hope  and  progress,  while  the  faces  of  our  people 
are  happy  and  contented ;  but  here,  the  resigna- 
tion of  despair  throws  a  mantle  of  hopelessness 
over  empire  and  people.  With  no  future,  no 
past,  these  millions  rise  with  the  sun,  toil  under 
its  passage,  and  go  to  bed  when  it  does,  having 
no  hope  or  desire  save  to  eat  and  sleep.  They 
will  not  awaken  to  help  themselves,  because  they 
do  not  know  that  they  are  badly  off;  and  so  it  is 
policy  to  keep  them  ignorant,  lest  with  greater 
enlipfhtenment  other  desires  mio^ht  come  not 
consistent  in  an  empire,  where  seventy  millions 
must  bow  to  the  will  and  caprices  of  the  few 
who  rule.  Therefore,  the  students  are  kept  at 
Latin  and  Greek,  lest  they  yearn  for  forbidden 
fruit.  But  it  can  not  last,  this  being  the  nine- 
teenth century. 


6o  Trans-  Caspia  : 

Order  is  evolved  out  of  the  confusion,  and 
we  get  under  way  on  time,  only  to  be  delayed 
an  hour  just  outside  of  Tiflis.  This  entire  valley 
between  the  two  seas  seems  constantly  wind- 
swept. To-day  it  almost  blows  a  hurricane.  The 
country  is  not  tropical,  possessing  much  such  a 
climate  as  Ohio,  until  the  greater  heat  comes, 
later  on.  At  Akstafa  one  is  on  holy  ground,  that 
being  the  station  for  Ararat.  Over  this  valley 
drifted  the  ark,  and  into  this  valley  descended  the 
inhabitants  thereof.  Mt.  Ararat  rears  its  snowy 
crest  one  hundred  versts  (seventy-five  miles)  to 
the  southward.  It  is  believed  by  the  natives  to 
be  haunted  by  Genii.  No  man  has  ever 
ascended  it,  so  they  say,  though  the  contrary 
is  well  known.  The  overland  telegraph  from 
London  to  Teheran  leaves  us  here  and  starts 
south-eastward  across  the  mountains ;  but  the 
easiest  road  to  that  city  of  the  Shah  is  via  Baku, 
and  thence  by  boat  to  the  southern  end  of  the 
Caspian,  where  you  commence  a  three  days' 
journey  overland  and  directly  southward. 

Abbas  has  wonderful  tales  to  relate  concern- 
ing his  prowess  with  the  wild  men  of  the  moun- 


m' 


62  Trans-  Caspia  : 

tains,  amongst  whom  we  are  to  pass.  Perhaps 
it  is  all  true,  but  one  certainly  has  little  to  fear 
from  any  thing,  man  or  beast,  that  could  be 
Intimidated  by  Abbas.  I  think  we  shall  get  an 
extra  guide  in  Samarkand.  Huge  trains  of  oil 
tanks  pass  us  constantly,  showing  our  approach 
to  that  great  source  of  Russia's  wealth.  The 
night  turns  cold  and  the  winds  rise  almost  to  a 
tempest.  When  morning  comes,  we  are  run- 
ning along  the  shores  of  the  Caspian,  which, 
strange  to  say,  after  the  commotion  of  the  ele- 
ments last  night,  is  as  placid  and  peaceful  as  a 
mill  pond  in  August. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  6 


a 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Baku,  June  3,  1894. 

OIL,  oil,  every-where !  in  the  gutters,  in  the 
mud  of  the  streets,  in  the  food  one  eats, 
and  in  the  air  one  breathes !  It  would  also  be  in 
the  milk  one  drinks,  but  for  the  fact  that  it  has 
been  boiled  out.  "  We  dare  not  drink  raw  milk 
here."  Even  the  dogs,  cats,  and  hogs  running 
wild  in  the  streets  are  streaked  with  the  grease 
that  oozes  out  of  the  pores  of  the  earth.  In 
places  it  spouts  forth  in  such  quantities  and  with 
such  force  that  it  has  never  been  possible  to 
utilize  the  entire  production  of  Mother  Earth. 
The  great  structures,  or  "  Blacktown,"  as  the 
localities  are  called,  are  a  mile  or  so  out  of  the 
city,  and  loom  darkly  on  the  horizon — as  one 
approaches  from  Tiflis — a  mass  of  towers,  scaf- 
folding, and  dense  black  smoke.  We  have  just 
returned  from  a  visit  to  one  of  them  (having 
seen  one  you  have  seen  them  all),  and  for  half 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai".  65 

an  hour  use  our  utmost  endeavors  to  shake  or 
brush  off  the  fine,  oily,  and  yellow  powder 
with  which  our  clothes  are  saturated.  There 
is  little  satisfaction,  save  to  one  particularly 
interested,  in  visits  to  such  places — huge  masses 
of  machinery,  vast  lakes  of  oil,  grease  and  dirt 
saturating  every  thing.  Here  and  there  is  a 
spouting  oil  fountain,  almost  equal  to  "  Old 
Faithful,"  in  our  Yellowstone  Park.  Over  all 
hangs  the  dense  pall  of  smoke.  How  the  people 
manage  to  live  is  hard  to  understand.  Baku 
proper  consists  of  an  old  Tartar  town  surrounded 
by  a  still  perfect  wall,  which  is  something  more 
than  nine  hundred  years  of  age.  Inside  thereof 
we  found  the  usual  picturesque  tangle  of  houses 
and  mosques.  Turbaned  men  and  veiled 
women,  Astrakans,  Turks,  Kirghiz,  Turkistans. 
Daghestans,  Persians,  Russians,  dogs,  dirt,  one 
American,  and  one  Dutchman  crowded  the 
streets.  With  our  departure,  the  latter  nations 
lost  their  representatives  in  the  ancient  capital. 
Dirt  is  here,  dirt  is  there,  dirt  is  every-where  ; 
and  one  would  not  enjoy  it  in  the  least  were  it 
otherwise. 


OIL  WELL. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  67 

We  are,  for  a  time,  much  disheartened  to 
learn  that  three  Americans,  Robinson,  Thurston, 
and  Watterman,  who  desired  to  enter  Turkistan, 
have  been  turned  back  from  Usin-ada.  I  had 
heard  of  them  in  our  legation  at  St.  Petersburg. 
It  seems  that  they  had  been  waiting  at  Batoum 
for  the  necessary  permit,  which  had  been  tele- 
graphed them.  But  they  had  nothing  to  show 
at  Usin-ada  save  Mr.  White's  telegram,  which 
the  authorities  refused  to  honor.  Therefore, 
they  have  recrossed  the  Caspian  and  are  now 
en  route  to  Ararat.  The  question  arises  as  to 
whether  we  are  much  better  off.  We  hold 
personal  letters  from  the  authorities  in  the 
capital  to  Mr.  White,  stating  that  permission 
has  been  granted  and  the  military  authorities 
advised  of  our  coming.  Will  they  do?  If  not, 
what  will  do  ?  Have  you  ever  butted  against  a 
stone  wall  ?  Then,  come  on  this  tour  and  battle 
with  the  underlings  of  the  Czar.  The  further 
down  they  are,  the  tougher  will  be  your  expe- 
rience. I  immediately  wire  our  legation,  and 
ask  for  help ;  and  then,  at  the  suggestion  of 
an   American   here,  who  goes   with   me,  hunt  up 


6  8  Trans-  Caspia  : 

a  Russian,  who,  in  Russian,  writes  a  telegram 
for  me  to  "  Kuropatkine,"  the  miHtary  governor 
at  Askhabad,  asking  whether  he  has  given  per- 
mission to  pass  me.  After  paying  triple  for  the 
message  and  answer,  I  am  informed  that  the 
latter  "will  come  to-night."  Most  un-Russian 
if  it  does !  However,  it  does.  About  mid- 
night, I  am  knocked  out  of  bed,  so  to  speak, 
to  receive  the  assurance  that  all  is  well.  I 
am  no  sooner  asleep  than  I  am  aroused  once 
more — this  time  to  receive  the  most  welcome 
news  that  all  goes  well  at  home.  What  blessed 
things  cables  are  !  So  I  go  forward,  with  the 
assurance  of  good-will  from  all  directions.  B. 
has  declined  to  do  any  of  this  work,  trusting 
that  he  may  be  allowed  to  enter  the  promised 
land. 

The  steamer  hence  for  Usin-ada  leaves  at  ten 
A.  M.,  or  thereabouts.  We  board  her  about 
nine,  fighting  our  way  through  the  motley  gang 
that  always  attends  the  advent  or  departure  of  a 
ship  in  these  seas.  Not  one-fifth  are  going  on 
her,  but  all  push  and  crowd  as  though  life  de- 
pended   upon    their    getting    on     board.       She 


The  Sealed  P7'0vmccs  of  the  Czar.  69 

proves  to  be  quite  a  comfortable  side-wheel 
craft,  and  we  are  soon  settled.  The  sea  looks 
blue  and  beautiful  beyond  the  capes,  as  the  sun 
lights  up  the  glittering  surface  ;  but  around  us  it 
is  covered  with  a  scum  of  oil,  and  nearer  to 
Blacktown  it  is  one  of  the  show  sights  to  light 
up  this  floating  petroleum,  thereby  causing  the 
waters  to  blaze  for  miles  in  fierce  conflagrration. 
At  night  such  a  sight  would  be  grand  and 
peculiar.  We  are  blessed,  as  we  have  been 
throughout  this  entire  tour,  with  beautiful 
weather.  I  sincerely  hope  it  will  continue 
throughout  the  railway  ride  to  Samarkand. 

The  Caspian  is  a  stormy  sea,  and  when  you 
think  of  the  countries  which  surround  it,  you  are 
not  surprised.  Winds  that  blow  over  the  one- 
time kingdom  of  Tamerlane  and  Jenghiz  Kahn, 
over  Persia  and  down  the  Caucasus,  from  frozen 
Siberia  and  tempestuous  Daghestan,  can  scarce 
be  peaceful  summer  zephyrs.  So  the  Caspian 
is  stormy,  though  it  is  smiling  on  us  to-day. 
There  is  a  volcanic  island  just  outside  the 
harbor  of  Baku,  from  which  steam  rises  in 
clouds,  and  around  which  millions  of  sea  birds 


/O  Trans-  Caspia  : 

circle.  It  is  not  explained  why  they  select, 
especially  in  summer,  such  a  spot,  unless  they 
have  discovered  the  edibility  of  boiled  eggs. 
What  a  convenient  arrangement !  Is  it  not  ? 
We  have  just  had  a  good  luncheon  on  beefsteak. 
It  is  not  the  first,  nor  will  it  be  our  last,  meal  on 
beefsteak.  That,  at  least,  is  the  same,  or  nearly 
the  same,  in  all  languages.  Our  supply  of 
Russian  is  limited,  and  we  hesitate  to  branch  out 
in  the  bills  of  fare,  having  come  to  grief  once  or 
twice  already  for  so  doing.  Therefore,  we  have 
rather  more  of  beefsteak  than  our  taste  dictates. 
When  we  once  leave  civilization,  it  will  be 
mutton,  mutton,   mutton. 

How  beautiful  the  water  looks !  The  coast 
has  sunken  to  that  low,  yellow  line  so  familiar  to 
you  who  have  sailed  these  eastern  seas.  There 
are  many  sails  in  sight,  "  gliding  to  the  distant 
fisheries."  Yet  the  prospect  is  a  lonely  one — 
perhaps  because  of  our  knowledge  of  the  fact 
that  those  same  sails  have  not  the  freedom  of 
the  world,  but  must  forever  glide  up  and  down, 
ghost-like,  upon  the  bosom  of  this  inland  sea. 
A  ship  should,  like  a  bird,  be  free  ;  but  these  are 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  7 1 

imprisoned  in  the  Caspian.  Given  a  love  of 
history  and  geography,  what  can  be  more 
charminof  than  this  driftino-  over  the  world? 
The  former  peoples  all  countries  with  almost 
personal  friends,  while  the  latter  enables  one  to 
place  them  properly  upon  the  map  and  to  fully 
comprehend  the  surrounding  countries.  For- 
ever hereafter,  when  even  casual  mention  is 
made  of  the  Caspian,  I  shall  see  in  my  mind 
this  fair,  blue,  inland  ocean,  and  almost  feel  the 
presence  of  adjacent  Persia,  Turkistan,  Georgia, 
Russia,  and  Siberia,  while  the  forms  and  histo- 
ries of  those  who  have  made  them  famous  will 
come  trooping  over  the  bridges  of  the  years  in 
stately  ar,mies.  Believe  me,  you  can  not  really 
enjoy  travel  until  you  get  beyond  and  away  from 
the  influence  of  the  world's  great  centers  of 
population ;  until  you  can  leave  the  rush  and 
unrest  entirely  out  of  your  days,  and  allow 
them  to  glide  onward,  living  only  in  the  present 
moment.  We  are  so  far  from  all,  and  getting 
daily  so  much  farther,  that  such  things  as 
stocks  and  bonds,  Parliament  and  Congress, 
the  repeal  of  the  tariff,  Baby  Ruth  and  Queen 


7  2  Trails-  Caspia  : 

Victoria,  have  ceased  utterly  to  interest  us. 
The  latter  may  even  omit  to  "  drive  out  at- 
tended by  the  Princess  Beatrice,"  and  we 
would  not  care.  Sorry,  of  course,  but  it  would 
soon  cease  to  grieve  us.  Apropos  of  that  same 
princess,  I  noticed  not  long  ago  some  entries 
from  her  journal,  as  follows:  "Breakfasted  with 
Mamma;  lunched  with  Mamma;  drove  out  with 
Mamma;  dined  w^ith  Mamma."  So  it  continued, 
day  in  and  day  out,  until,  toward  the  close  of  a 
month's  record  of  the  same  monotony,  came  the 
cry  :  "  Really,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  having 
too  much  of   Mamma," 

I  have  just  returned  from  an  exploring  expe- 
dition, down  below  on  this  good  S.  S,  "Alixis," 
which  nearly  created  a  riot.  Well,  when  one 
can  not  read  the  names,  how  is  one  to  know 
what  is  behind  closed  doors  until  he  opens 
them.  I  opened  indiscriminately,  and,  as  I  said 
before,  nearly  created  a  riot.  A  single  volley 
of  Russian  is  quite  sufficient  to  knock  down  a 
stranger  without  using  weapons.  It  is,  indeed, 
a  terrible  language,  and  seems  shot  out  of  the 
mouth  in  squares,  triangles,  and  parallelograms. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai'-.  J^) 

We  are  in  the  habit  of  classing  it  among  those 
of  little  use,  as  being  spoken  only  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  country  ;  but  when,  after  much  strug- 
gling, you  have  forced  your  way  into  the  heart 
of  a  nation  of  seventy  millions  of  people  who 
speak  that  and  little  else,  you  can  not  but  regret 
that  it  has  not  been  considered  of  enough  im- 
portance in  the  western  nations  to  at  least  teach 
the  rudiments  thereof.  In  the  greater  cities, 
French  is  spoken  by  the  upper  classes ;  but  out 
here,  not  one  word  of  any  thing  save  Russian ; 
and  the  signs  and  motions  that  have  been  such 
an  assistance  in  other  tongues,  and  that  we  had 
hoped  were  common  to  all,  are  dead  failures 
here.  Even  "pidjin"  English  won't  work,  so 
you  may  understand  how  hopeless  and  lost  we 
feel.  It  is  very  odd,  but  true,  that  two  Chinese, 
coming  from  different  sections  of  the  Celestial 
Empire,  and  speaking  different  dialects,  can 
communicate  perfectly  by  the  use  of  pidjin  En- 
glish, whereas  pure  English  and  the  dialects 
of  their  own  language  are  as  Greek  to  them. 


74  Trans-  Caspia  : 


CHAPTER  VIL 

"  Where  a  silent  ocean  always  broke  on  a  silent  shore." 

UsiN-ADA,*  June  5,  1894. 

IT  has  taken  us  twenty-two  hours  to  run  the 
width  of  this  sea,  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
two  miles,  and  now  we  rest  some  two  miles  from 
land,  safely  stuck  in  the  mud.  If  that  is  land,  I 
doubt  my  desire  to  leave  the  ship.  How  hot 
and  how  torrid  it  looks !  Vast  stretches  of  low 
sand  dunes  glow  bright  and  yellow  under  a  hot 
sun  ;  a  few  oil  tanks,  some  lonely-looking  ships, 
and  a  dozen  or  more  wretched  houses,  with  the 
inevitable  green  domes  of  a  Russian  church 
rising  in  their  midst.  That  is  Usin-ada,  where 
we  hope  to  enter  Asia.  If  all  the  tales  are  true, 
we  shall  wish  we  had  never  attempted  it.  This 
is  cool  weather,  and  we  are  assured  that  it  will 
not  be  more  than  one  hundred  degrees  Fahren- 
heit in  the  train.     Next  month  and    the  month 

*  "  Long  Island." 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  75 

after,  the  heat  mounts  to  one  hundred  and  forty- 
five  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  degrees.  If  we 
have  even  one  hundred,  how  we  shall  long  for  a 
sight  of  these  dancing,  fresh-looking  waters ! 
How  we  shall  dream,  if  sleep  be  possible,  of  the 
numerous  springs  and  creeks  under  shady  forest 
trees,  in  which  we  have  bathed  as  children  i 
You  must  come  to  these  places  to  appreciate  the 
terrible  longing  that  the  soldiers  possess  for  the 
green  lanes  and  shady  nooks  of  old  England, 
and  the  wide,  pleasant  valleys  of  beautiful 
France.  If  you  were  asked  the  locality  of  the 
desert  you  would  immediately  point  to  the 
great  Sahara ;  but  that  is  but  a  fragment  of  the 
mighty  whole.  To  that  must  be  added  all  of 
Arabia,  all  of  Persia,  Beloochistan,  Afghanistan, 
and,  stretching  northward,  the  yellow  waves  of 
sand  cover  all  of  Turkistan,  and  stretch  far  into 
Siberia,  only  to  change  their  desolation  for  that 
of  the  Steppes,  which  in  their  turn  give  place  to 
a  frozen  ocean.  The  fertile  and  inhabitable 
portions  form  merely  an  oasis  now  and  then,  or 
fringe  the  banks  of  some  river.  All  the  rest, 
illimitable  and  vast,   is  sand — fine,   yellow,  drift- 


"jd  Titans-  Caspia : 

ing  sand,  changing  every  hour  with  the  passing 
winds,  so  that  the  very  features  of  a  district 
famihar  to  you  to-day  are  so  utterly  altered 
by  the  morrow  that  you  know  it  not.  Over 
these  Russia,  England,  and  France  pour  the 
life-blood  of  their  best  and  bravest,  battling  ever 
with  each  other  for  the  possession  of  countries 
over  which  wild  nature  does  not  intend  that 
other  than  herself  shall  hold  dominion ;  and  their 
combined  forces  can  not  wrest  this  land  from  her 
unwiUing  hand.  In  all  the  nine  hundred  miles 
between  here  and  Samarkand,  there  are  but  two 
or  three  towns  of  any  size  ;  the  rest  is  desolation 
most  profound  ;  and  yet  Russia  claims  to  have 
conquered  it.  Perhaps  so,  so  far  as  the  few 
wandering  tribes  are  concerned ;  but  the  drifting 
waves  of  sand,  the  heat,  and  the  cholera  are  the 
true  monarchs  of  these  desolate  regions. 

As  the  result  of  our  running  aground,  we  shall 
be  detained  and  have  luncheon  aboard.  Not  a 
bad  arrangement,  as  there  is  no  good  place,  I 
am  told,  in  that  town  yonder.  The  two  hundred 
army  recruits  have  already  departed.  The  old 
Turk    on    the    forward    deck    has    gathered    his 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.  "]"] 

harem  into  a  dark  corner,  to  seclude  it  from  our 
prying  eyes  and  cameras.  According  to  the 
captain,  these  Persians  are  men  of  marvelous 
strength  ;  not  in  the  arms,  but  in  the  back.  It 
is  a  common  thing  for  one  of  them  to  carry 
thirty  pouds — a  Russian  "  poud  "  being  equal  to 
forty  pounds  English.  Over  one  thousand 
pounds  is  certainly  a  good  load.  Our  captain  is 
a  blonde,  with  blue  eyes  and  a  quick  temper, 
and  is  rather  indio-nant  that  we  venture  to  doubt 
the  statement.  Abbas  says  it  is  all  nonsense  ; 
that  a  horse  could  not  do  it.  Yet  Sandow 
lifted  three  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  and 
raised  it  over  his  head  by  one  arm.  A  Turk  is 
supposed  to  be  able  to  carry  a  piano  on  his 
head,  when  once  it  is  placed  there.  Take  it  for 
what  it  is  worth.  I  certainly  shall  not  try  the 
experiment. 

Freed  from  the  mud  at  last,  our  ship  steamed 
slowly  over  the  shallow  waters  and  tied  up 
alongside  the  wharf.  After  luncheon,  we  started 
out  for  custom  and  passport  inspections.  The 
former  bothered  us  not  at  all ;  but  when  we 
came    to    the  latter,  it  was    discovered    that    B. 


78  Trans-  Caspia  : 

could  pass,  permission  having  arrived  for  him, 
but  I  "must  return  on  the  steamer."  The  pros- 
pect outside  was  not  such  as  to  make  me  greatly 
regret  it,  but  opposition  to  further  progress  had 
swept  aside  all  feelings  save  an  intense  desire  to 
enter  this  land  if  I  died  for  it.  I  was  told  flatly 
to  return.  There  were  many  consultations  with 
white-capped,  ceremonious  officials,  much  bow- 
ing and  scraping,  much  intercession  by  an  officer 
we  had  met  on  the  ship.  I  showed  my  numer- 
ous papers :  first,  my  own  American  passport ; 
second,  my  Chinese  pass ;  third,  my  letter  of  ad- 
mission from  the  officials  at  St.  Petersburg;  and 
fourth,  my  telegram  from  the  governor,  Kuro- 
patkine,  at  Askhabad,  stating  that  I  was  to  be 
admitted.  "  No,  it  must  be  an  error."  At  last, 
it  was  arranofed  that  the  chief  here  wire  to  the 
governor  at  Askhabad,  and  make  inquiries  in 
my  behalf.  So  they  vanished,  and  left  B.  and  I 
looking  each  other  blankly  in  the  face. 

"  What  shall  you  do?"   he  asked. 

"Go  back,  I  fancy." 

"You  might  wait  here  three  days?" 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  79 

"Yes,  and  sleep  on  that  stove  in  the  waiting- 
room.      It  is  the  coolest  thing  in  sight." 

"Oh,  well;  you  may  go  on.  You  have  six 
hours  in  which  to  hear  from  Askhabad," 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  shall  go.  But  out  of  abun- 
dance of  precaution,  we  had  better  arrange 
matters  about  the  thinofs  we  own  in  common." 

So  we  reckoned  and  settled  up.  I  bestowed 
my  new  bed  and  cork  mattress  upon  him  as  a 
gift,  with  my  benediction  ;  and  just  as  he  was 
about  to  pay  me  for  my  half  in  our  other  belong- 
ings, in  came  the  same  official,  and,  with  the 
deepest  salaam,  informed  me  that  it  was  his 
pleasure  to  allow  me  to  pass ;  that  the  telegram 
had  arrived  this  morning,  but  his  gens-d'armes 
had  secreted  it.  I  bowed  with  the  greatest 
ceremony,  as  though  I  believed  the  statement, 
and  he  retired.  The  whole  thing  was  simply 
either  a  bit  of  blackmail  or  a  bluff  to  try  and 
scare  me  off,  as  they  had  done  Thurston's  party 
last  week ;  but  my  insisting  upon  a  telegram  to 
Askhabad  forced  them  to  show  their  hands. 
How  small  and  contemptible  !  How  can  a  na- 
tion expect  to  be  great  or  retain  greatness  that 


8o  Trans-  Caspia  : 

resorts  to  such  subterfuges  ?  I  am  somewhat 
surprised  that  they  gave  in  at  last.  Had  they 
kept  up  their  usual  "stone-wall"  policy  until 
night,  I  should  certainly  have  returned  as  I 
came.  I  must,  however,  add,  in  justice  to 
Russia,  that  in  the  Thurston  matter,  I  have 
since  been  told  that  the  person  whom  our  min- 
ister instructed  to  apply  for  their  permission 
simply   "forgot  to  do  so."  (?) 

There  is  not  a  place  in  which  one  can  sleep 
here,  and  the  town  stands  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  buried  in  the  sand  before  night.  I 
never  knew  such  desolation  anywhere  as  meets 
the  eye  on  all  sides.  I  wanted  to  stop  at  the 
old  city  of  Merve,  but  am  told  that  it  has 
quite  disappeared  under  the  terrible  sands. 
The  heat  is  not  unbearable  if  one  stays  out 
of  the  sun.  Such  winds  must  sweep  away 
part  of  it.  Our  fate  is  settled  now,  and  whether 
we  cross  the  Pamirs  or  not,  we  shall  go  some- 
where in  the  mountain  and  remain  until  autumn. 
It  would  not  do  to  come  over  this  railway  in 
July,  with  the  heat  up  to  one  hundred  and  thirty 
and  one  hundred  and  forty. 


The  Sealed  Provhices  of  the  Czar 


O 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

7:30    p.   M. 

FF  at  last !      The  officials  o-ive  me  a  linger- 


ing glance  as  the  train  rolls  away,  but  I 
am  beyond  their  power  to  recall ;  that,  if  done  at 
all,  must  be  done  by  higher  authorities.  Trains 
on  this  Trans-Caspian  Railway  run  three  times 
a  week  only,  and  between  here  and  Samarkand 
manage  on  nine  hundred  miles  to  consume 
sixty  hours,  during  which  time  ten  hours  are 
spent  in  long  stoppages  of  ten,  fifteen,  twenty- 
five,  and  forty  minutes,  sometimes  at  stations 
where  no  life  exists  and  no  trains  are  looked  for, 
sometimes  in  the  midst  of  the  desert,  to  enable 
the  track  to  be  cleared  of  the  shifting  sands. 

6    A.   M. 

Midnight  was  rather  warm,  but  as  the  sun 
rose  a  strong  wind  came  from  the  mountains  of 
Persia;  and  now,  at  7  a.  m.,  it  is  very  pleasant. 
I  do  trust  that  the  good  God  will  continue  his 
blessing  of   fine  weather — "fine  weather"  here 


82  Trans-Caspia  : 

means  clouds  and  some  rain.  It  would  seem 
so  far  that  we  are  especially  blessed  as  to  the 
clouds,  though  I  scarcely  fancy  there  has  been 
any  special  order  sent  out  in  our  behalf.  As 
Abbas  expressed  it,  there  is  "no  proper  first 
class  in  this  country,"  so  the  railways  have  abol- 
ished that  class,  and  we  ride  second  ;  and  but  for 
the  fact  that  the  seats  are  cushioned  and  leather- 
covered,  there  is  not  an  emigrant  car  in  our  own 
land  that  is  not  more  luxurious.  It  is  not  my 
habit  to  flaunt  the  American  Eagle  constantly 
when  away  from  home.  In  fact,  to  me,  that 
seems  the  acme  of  bad  taste  and  provincialism. 
But  these  notes  are  written  for  Americans,  and, 
if  ever  read  at  all,  will  be  read  by  them  ;  there- 
fore I  shall  use  "  comparisons  "  more  than  usual, 
in  order  that  my  own  countrymen  may  under- 
stand more  clearly  this  far-off  land. 

As  I  look  out  over  the  world  this  morning, 
the  desert  spreads  away  to  the  westward,  a  dead 
level  of  sand  and  sage  brush ;  and  across  the 
great  red  disk  of  the  rising  sun  slowly  pass  a 
long  string  of  camels,  led  by  a  man  on  a  small 
donkey.       Horses     have     disappeared.       These 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  8 


v3 


plains  of  Trans-Caspia  are  traversed  by  the 
camel  only.  Out  of  the  other  window  one 
catches  a  glimpse   of  the   mountains   of  Persia.  | 

B.     remarks     that     the    thermometer    registers  / 

eighty-two — not  bad  for  early  morning,  and  yet 
it  is  very  comfortable.  "More  anon,"  Sol  seems  ^ 
to  say,  as  he  rises  higher  and  higher  over  this 
kingdom  where  he  reigns  supreme.  High  noon, 
with  the  thermometer  showing  ninety-four  ;  yet 
the  strong  wind  which  sweeps  through  the  car 
not  only  makes  us  comfortable,  but  has  carried 
off  my  white  umbrella — no  small  loss  in  such  a 
land  of  fire.  Over  all  the  stretches  of  the  desert 
outside  hanofs  a  hot  haze,  throufjh  which  a  cross 
on  a  lonely  grave  looms  ghost-like ;  majestic 
dust  spouts  travel  swiftly  along,  while  here  and 
there  a  deserted  village  shows  where  man  has 
given  up  the  struggle.  Nothing  living  in  view, 
except  one  lonely  camel  !  P'rom  now  until  four 
o'clock  will  be  the  hottest  time  of  the  day  ;  but 
if  this  wind  keeps  up,  we  can  easily  bear  it. 


84  Trans-  Caspia 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"  GOEK    TEPE." 

"  There  the  traveler  meets  aghast 
Sheeted  memories  of  the  past." 


u 


GOEK  TEPE."  The  heart  of  a  once 
war-swept  country  ;  silent  and  deserted 
now,  save  for  our  slowly  crawling  train  and 
some  floating  vultures.  Desolation  reigns  ab- 
solute monarch  around  the  ruins  of  the  fort 
rising  yonder.  Its  irregular  walls  were  de- 
prived of  half  their  height  by  Skobeleff  to 
cover  the  dead — twenty  thousand  and  more — 
that  he  slaughtered  here  in  1881.  None  were 
spared  save  the  women  and  children  and  the 
chained  Persian  prisoners.  Russia  advanced 
with  flying  colors  and  triumphant  music  to  the 
attack  of  Goek  Tepe,  and  with  flying  colors  and 
triumphant  music  pursued  the  people  in  their 
mad  flight  over  this  awful  desert,  hackinor  and 
hewing  until  twenty  thousand  dead  told  the  tale 


The  Scaled  Pi^ovinccs  of  the  Czar.  85 

of  another  victory  for  the  Czar.  So  to  this  day 
music  strikes  terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  few  who 
survived;  and  when,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
opening  of  the  raihvay,  a  sudden  burst  of  melody 
was  heard,  men  and  women  w^ent  down  in  the 
desert  praying-  for  mercy  and  Hfe,  so  convinced 
were  they  that  the  sound  meant  death.  As  far 
as  the  eye  can  reach,  rise  the  small  clay  watch- 
towers  of  the  Turkomans,  and  the  rectangular 
walled  forts  with  towers  at  the  corners  ;  but  no 
life  or  movement  anywhere,  save  it  be  some 
moving  column  of  dust  or  some  wolfish-looking 
dogs.  For  nearly  a  week  the  Russian  soldiers 
were  allowed  to  loot  this  captured  fortress,  and 
three  million  roubles  worth  of  plunder  were  car- 
ried off.  These  plains  had  been  accustomed  to 
sights  of  horror — Jenghiz  Kahn  had  passed  this 
way — but  it  remained  for  Christian  Russia  to 
eclipse  all  that  had  gone  before. 

Askhabad  is  passed  at  2  p.  m.  The  train 
stops  there  for  forty  minutes,  for  no  apparent 
reason,  unless  it  be  an  unwillingness  on  the 
part  of  the  engine  to  start  again  over  the  sultry 
plains.      Askhabad    is    a    town   of   about    fifteen 


86  1  rans-  Caspia  : 

thousand  inhabitants,  and  is  the  place  where  five 
thousand  of  them  died  from  cholera  two  years 
ago.  There  are  no  reports  of  that  terrible 
scourge  as  yet,  but  it  may  come  later,  by  which 
time  we  shall  be  well  on  into  the  mountains. 
B.  has  just  fished  the  thermometer  out  of  his 
bag,  and  reads  with  great  gusto,  "ninety-eight 
degrees  ;"  but  it  is  not  uncomfortable.  The  sun 
has  been  hazy  all  day,  and  now  has  retired 
behind  clouds  of  sand  for  good.  So  our  dread 
is  over  for  a  time.  To-morrow  promises  a 
scorcher. 

June  6th. 
A  terrific  wind,  which  invades  and  sobs 
around  the  train  all  night,  as  we  enter  the 
Black  Desert,  fills  every  corner  of  the  car 
with  sand.  Still  I  decline  to  allow  my  win- 
dow to  be  closed,  preferring  burial  alive  to 
suffocation  by  heat.  The  night,  after  all,  has 
not  been  an  uncomfortable  one.  Abbas  arrives 
back  from  some  forward  part  of  the  train,  asking 
whether  we  want  tea  ;  also  informing  us  that  the 
kitchen  is  on  fire.  Tough  work  for  us,  if  it  is 
so.     There    are    no    eating-houses    in   all    these 


The  Scaled  Proviiices  of  the  Czar.  8  7 

nine  hundred  miles.  We  carry  a  dining-  and 
a  kitchen  car  with  us.  You  would  smile  at  the 
former,  though  it  seems  fine  to  us  here — a 
freight  car  painted  white,  with  a  bench  down 
the  center,  around  which  are  some  chairs. 
The  messes  served  are  something  terrible. 
We  confine  our  orders,  perforce,  to  beefsteak, 
which  is  well  cooked.  The  tea  and  bread  are 
good,  and  we  drink  the  milk,  but  have  long 
since  ceased  to  discuss  as  to  what  kind  of  animal 
it  comes  from — an  oil  tank,  I  should  say,  from 
the  taste.  The  thermometer  can  not  rise  very 
high  if  the  wind  keeps  up.  One  can  not  see  fifty 
yards  into  the  desolation  that  surrounds  him, 
and  does  not  desire  to.  I  do  not  believe  that 
without  shelter  human  life  could  endure  for  a 
day.  There  is  no  water  in  all  the  distance  from 
Merve  to  the  Oxsus.  In  our  whole  land,  from 
the  Elano  Estacado  to  the  Bad  Lands,  from 
Maine  to  California,  we  have  nothing-  so  terrible 
as  this  Black  Desert.  As  I  look  from  my  win- 
dow, about  noon,  it  reminds  me  of  the  ocean  in 
its  wildest  moments  of  tempest,  when  the  spray 
blows  high  over  the  masts.     Yet  that  seems  all 


8  8  Ti-ans-  Caspia  : 

life  and  freshness  ;  this  is  death.  A  terrible  sun 
vainly  tries  to  banish  the  whirlwinds  of  sand  that 
blow  furiously  along,  making  the  waves  with 
their  crest  of  sage  brush  appear  indistinct.  Our 
carriage  is  choked  with  sand ;  and  yet  we  have 
to  thank  it  and  the  winds  for  a  temperature 
amounting  only  to  ninety  degrees.  It  would 
have  been  terrible  had  our  train  been  destroyed 
last  night  by  the  fire  which  attacked  the  kitchen. 
What  does  Russia  make  by  the  possession  of 
a  land  like  this  ?  Simply,  I  fancy,  the  holding  of 
a  watch-tower  in  the  direction  of  India  and  the 
English,  with,  perhaps,  an  eye  to  China.  There 
is  not  a  bit  of  cultivation  in  all  the  distance 
traversed ;  no  green,  save  in  patches,  on  which 
the  few  miserable  natives  cower  shudderingly. 
The  great  Trans-Asian  Railway,  which  is  to  be 
completed  in  1904,  passes  just  north  of  the 
southern  line  of  Siberia,  and  is  within  the 
Russian  dominions  its  entire  course,  until  it 
comes  out  on  the  Pacific  Ocean  at  Vladevastock. 
Traveling  in  India  is  luxury  itself  in  comparison 
to  this.  There  the  cars  are  roomy  and  pos- 
sessed   of    quite    decent    toilet-rooms.       Every 


90  Trans-  Caspia  : 

window  has  its  stained  glass  to  protect  one  from 
the  glare  of  the  sun.  There  are  also  the 
"  tatties,"  or  curtains  of  straw,  over  which  water 
runs,  and  through  which  the  hot  air  in  passing 
is  changed  to  a  cool,  refreshing  breeze.  Here 
nothing  is  done  to  make  travel  other  than 
most  uncomfortable,  the  cars  possessing  abso- 
lutely no  pretense  of  comfort.  The  fruits  are 
not  yet  ripe,  and  I  can  not  imagine  how  the 
Russians  endure  the  messes  upon  which  they 
live,  and  upon  which  they  pour  quantities  of 
liquors  of  all  sorts,  until  their  skins  look  ready 
to  burst. 

Nature  remains  kindly  disposed  in  our  case, 
as  the  sun  keeps  hidden  most  of  the  time ; 
otherwise  I  do  not  think  we  could  endure  the 
heat.  One  poor  German  looked  up  at  me 
this  morning  and  congratulated  me  upon  the 
weather.  Then,  dropping  his  head,  he  moaned 
out:  "But  I  must  return  next  month,  when  it 
will  be  hell,  hell."  So,  if  you  must  come  here, 
select  your  seasons.  It  is  too  late  even  now; 
but  as  I  have  said,  we  are  favored  with  a 
clouded    sun. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  g  i 

"TCHARJUI." 

We  have  just  crossed  the  Oxsus,  which  here 
is  about  two  miles  wide.  It  is  divided  into 
several  streams,  and  its  waters  are  as  muddy  as 
those  of  the  Missouri.  At  one  time  in  its  history 
it  flowed  into  the  Caspian  near  "  Usin-ada,"  but 
now  it  flows  into  the  Sea  of  Aral.  What  con- 
vulsions of  nature  must  have  been  necessary  to 
effect  such  a  change !  I  had  hoped  that  the 
influence  of  the  great  river  would  banish  this 
terrible  desert ;  but  even  before  our  nostrils  have 
lost  the  pleasant  fresh  smell  of  its  mighty  current, 
our  eyes  are  blinded  by  the  sand  clouds,  and 
the  waves  of  the  desert  have  closed  in  around 
us  once  more,  blacker  and  more  terrible  than 
before,  if  that  be  possible,  for  now  not  even  the 
sage  brush  breaks  the  dreary  monotony.  We 
are  on  time,  however,  and  three  hours  more  will 
land  us  at  Bokhara.  One  thing  is  certain  :  it 
will  take  most  serious  reasons  to  force  me  to 
return  this  way.  I  would  rather  spend  six 
months  amidst  the  snows  and  in  charge  of  the 
Afghans  than  pass  over  this  route  again.  It 
has    been  without  exception    the   worst    railway 


T---^, 


J 


SWEEPING    SAND    FROM    THE    RAILWAY. 


The  Sealed  Pi^ovinces  of  the  Czar.  93 

ride  I  have  ever  taken,  and  yet  we  have  seen  it 
under  its  most  favorable  aspects.  God  help 
those  who  pass  by  here  in  summer ! 

The  winds  are  rising  to  almost  a  hurricane, 
and  we  are  in  the  midst  of  one  of  those  terrible 
sand-storms  that  one  associates  with  the  great 
Sahara.  Our  engine  labors  as  though  in  pain, 
and  comes  ever  and  anon  to  a  standstill,  until 
we  are  dug  out.  I  think  six  hours'  halt  vi^ould 
find  a  train  almost  buried  out  of  sight ;  but  we 
do  manage  to  creep  on  now  and  then.  Every 
moment  or  so,  some  louder  shrieking  of  the 
elements  or  rattle  of  sand  against  the  train 
causes  the  Russians  to  look  up  and  dismally 
shake  their  heads.  The  sun  has  been  hidden 
all  day,  and  now  all  is  gray  and  gloomy.  Still, 
as  I  have  said  before,  this  is  called  an  excep- 
tionally good  trip. 


94  Trans-  Caspia 


CHAPTER    X. 

BOKHARA,    "THE    NOBLE." 

"  Where  are  the  kings  and  where  the  rest 
Of  those  who  once  this  world  possessed." 

June  8,  1894. 

THE  name  of  this  ancient  metropolis  is 
derived  from  the  Sanskrit  "  Vihara,"  a 
monastery,  showing  that  even  across  the  Kara 
Kum  desert  the  shadow  of  Buddha  had  fallen 
and  rested  on  this  far  northern  city.  Bokhara 
stands  in  a  veritable  paradise  compared  to  the 
desert,  and  all  the  valley  around  it  shows  the 
exuberant  richness  of  long  cultivation.  Here 
again  are  trees  of  some  size,  and  the  multitude 
of  fruit  trees  show  what  a  feast  the  traveler 
may  expect  next  month.  As  one  approaches 
the  city  from  the  Amu-Daria  (Oxus),  one  first 
notices  a  stately  minaret,  or  rather  a  column 
more  like  the  Kutub-Minar  at  Delhi  than 
the    usual    minarets    of   the   Orient.     Soon    two 


The  Sealed  Provi?ices  of  the  Cza?' 


95 


stately  domes  appear  in  sight,  and  one  col- 
lects rugs  and  belongings  in  order  to  be  ready 
to  leave  the  stuffy  dirty  car,  but  the  train  rushes 
onward    past    minarets  and  domes,   past  houses 


A  "Good  Morning"  at  Bokhara. 

and  gardens,  until  one  feels  that  some  mistake 
has  been  made  and  that  that  was  not  after  all 
Bokhara,  "  the  Noble,"  yet  what  other  place 
exists  hereabouts?  Some  ten  miles  east  of  the 
city  the  station    is    reached.      It  was    placed    at 


96  Trans-  Caspia  : 

that  distance  because  of  the  distrust  of  the 
railway  always  exhibited  by  Orientals  until  they 
see  the  cars,  when  childlike  suspicion  is  over- 
come by  curiosity,  and  from  the  starting  of  the 
first  train  until  to-day,  every  third  class  carriage 
has  been  crowded,  as  in  India,  with  a  motley 
assemblage  of  natives  wholly  delighted  with 
the  motion.  The  "  invention  of  the  devil  "  has 
ceased  to  alarm,  has  greatly  decreased  the 
power  of  the  Amir,  and  increased  that  of 
Russia.  The  Amir  is  prevented  by  dignity 
from  gratifying  his  curiosity,  which  is  as  great 
as    the    lowest    in     his    realm. 

Bokhara  maintains  a  semblance  of  independ- 
ence and  is  allowed  to  do  so  through  the  policy 
of  Russia,  whose  representative,  Baron  Wrevfsky, 
the  governor-general  at  Tashkend,  told  us  that 
he  never  had  and  never  could  visit  Bokhara  until 
Russia  assumed  in  name  the  control  thereof. . 
Were  he  to  go  now  it  would  be  most  embarrass- 
ing, for  w^ere  the  Amir  to  receive  him  as  became 
his  state  and  the  glory  of  the  Czar,  the  people 
of  Bokhara  would  at  once  say,  "  Here  is  one 
greater    than    our    ruler,"    and    would    cease    to 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  97 

respect  or  obey  the  latter ;  while  if  the  atten- 
tion paid  were  less  than  that  the  Amir  receives, 
they  would  at  once  cease  to  fear  Russia  and 
there  would  be  trouble  ;  therefore  it  is  best  to 
stay  away. 

As  long  ago  as  the  tenth  century  this  city  of 
Central  Asia  was  spoken  of  by  travelers,  and 
it  was  old,  very  old  even  then.  Here  "in  the 
winter  of  b.  c.  328,  in  the  'Royal  Chase,'  un- 
disturbed for  generations,  Alexander  the  Great 
and  his  officers,  slew  four  thousand  animals, 
and  here  Alexander  himself  overcame  a  lion, 
Samson-like,  in  single  combat."  Not  until  700 
A.  D.  did  Bokhara  emerg-e  from  the  darkness, 
since  which  time  it  has  been  conquered  and 
reconquered  so  many  times  that  any  thing  like 
a  permanent  rule  was  impossible.  In  1400, 
Timur — Tamerlane — established  a  Tartar  dy- 
nasty lasting  one  hundred  years,  after  which 
tribe  after  tribe  conquered  Bokhara  down  to 
the  present  day,  when,  under  Russian  rule, 
she  is  more  prosperous  than  she  has  been 
for  centuries.      But   I  am  not    going    to  write  a 


98  Trans-  Caspia  : 

history  of  Bokhara.      Schuyler  and  Cruzon  have 
done    and    well    done    all    that. 

Good  Queen  Bess  had  an  embassador  out 
here  in  1572  named  Jenkenson.  The  eight- 
eenth century  held  the  names  of  but  two  travel- 
ers who  had  penetrated  to  this  remote  city. 
In  our  century  they  have  increased  somewhat, 
but  still  travelers  are  few  and  far  between,  and 
their  movements  are  known  and  watched.  We 
two  are,  I  think,  the  only  strangers,  and  I 
know  that  I  am  the  only  American  in  all  the 
land  from  the  Caspian  to  the  China  frontier, 
from  which  we  hear  rumors  of  the  approach 
via  Kashgar,  hearing  even  their  names,  of  two 
Englishmen.  Can  you  imagine  such  a  state 
of  affairs  in  America,  where  all  the  peoples 
of  the  earth  pour  in  as  free  as  the  waters 
of  the  ocean,  though  much  to  our  discom- 
fort and  sometimes  almost  to  our  undoinof. 
Two  men  in  the  early  part  of  this  century 
reached  Bokhara  after  six  years  wandering 
from  India.  Here  they  remained  some  five 
months,  and  departed  only  to  die  in  the  desert 
beyond.      Cruzon    tells  of  the    horrible    traged\- 


TJie  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  99 

in  1842  of  Stoddart  and  Conolly.  "Sent  in 
1838  and  1840  upon  a  mission  of  diplomatic 
negotiations  to  the  Khanatis  of  Central  Asia, 
whose  sympathies  Great  Britain  desired  to  en- 
list in  consequence  of  her  advance  into  Afgha- 
nistan, they  were  thrown  by  the  monster  Nas- 
rullah  into  a  foul  subterranean  pit  infested  with 
vermin,  were  subjected  to  abominable  torture, 
and  finally  publicly  beheaded  in  1842."  Dr. 
Wolff  barely  escaped  with  his  life  while  en- 
devoring  to  clear  up  their  fates.  For  centuries 
Bokhara  has  been  hidden  as  in  the  depths  of 
midnight,  coming  distinctly  into  view  only  now 
and  then  as  though  in  a  blaze  of  lightning,  dur- 
ing which  has  been  seen  the  shadowy  forms  of 
Jenghiz  Kahn  and  his  savage  hordes  appearing 
on  the  horizon,  passing  with  sword  and  flame 
over  the  ancient  city,  and  vanishing,  phantom- 
like, in  the  desert  to  the  westward  ;  then  the  city 
again  has  sunk  into  darkness,  mysterious,  roman- 
tic, and  impenetrable.  Our  own  Dr.  Eugene 
Schuyler — he  who  afterward  died  in  Egypt — 
visited     it     in     1873,    under    the     protection     of 


I  oo  Trans-  Caspia  : 

Russia ;  but  travelers  even  now  are  few  and  far 
between. 

We  were  two  very  dusty,  tired  men  as  we 
descended  last  night  from  the  cars  at  this 
station — descended  from  the  comparative  quiet 
of  our  compartment  to  the  midst  of  such  a 
throng  as  can  only  be  found  at  a  railway  station 
or  river  bank  in  the  Orient ;  a  sea  of  black  faces 
topped  by  gigantic  white  turbans,  thousands  of 
glittering  eyes  and  chattering  tongues,  thou- 
sands of  hands  eager  to  take  possession  of  one's 
luggage.  No  chance  of  hearing,  no  chance  of 
progress  in  such  cases,  until  you  lay  about  you 
with  your  stick,  utterly  regardless  of  what  you 
hit  and  utterly  forgetful  of  your  early  religious 
training.  You  must  count  your  packages  before 
you  leave  the  car,  and  count  them  every  five 
minutes  thereafter ;  and  last  night  a  Russian  po- 
liceman came  all  the  way  to  our  hotel  with  us  and 
counted  them  after  we  were  settled.  We  were 
marked  down  for  lunatics  when  we  asked  for 
baths,  and  were  informed  that  here  the  people 
bathed  once  a  week,  and  that  we  had  just  missed 
the  day.     They  did  finally  find  what  would  pass 


The  Sealed  Pi'oviiices  of  the  Czar.         i  o  i 

for  a  tub,  and  we  were  cleansed  in  due  course  of 
time.  B.  had  telegraphed  to  an  acquaintance  in 
the  town  before  we  left  "  Usin-ada,"  but  the 
message  did  not  reach  here  until  about  the  time 
we  did,  so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  come 
to  this  house.  Bokhara  station  is  tw^elve  versts 
from  the  city  ;  but  one  must  stop  near  the  sta- 
tion and  visit  the  city  by  carriage,  as  it  is  purely 
Sart,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  pass  a  night  in 
it  or  get  any  thing  to  eat  there. 

I  have  to  be  very  careful  to  let  it  be  known 
that  I  am  an  American,  and  not  English — that 
is,  so  far  as  the  Russians  are  concerned  ;  and  I 
know,  were  it  not  for  the  strong  arm  of  the 
Czar,  we  should  not  dare  to  enter  the  city.  We 
do  dare,  however  ;  and  our  only  concern  is  in 
the  choice  of  carriages,  none  of  which  look  as 
though  they  would  hold  together  for  a  ten-mile 
ride  ;  and  in  the  one  we  finally  settle  there  is  so 
strong  a  suspicion  of  bugs  that  we  sit  on  the 
back  of  the  seat  as  the  safest  place.  So  we 
journey  onward,  past  orchards  and  meadows, 
down  long  avenues  of  mulberry  trees,  whose 
branches    shake    their   berries    into    our    laps ; 


I  o  2  Tra7is-  Caspia  : 

through  clouds  of  dust  and  hosts  of  natives, 
some  riding,  many  taking  their  noonday  tea  and 
smoke  at  the  numerous  khans  or  cafes,  where, 
amongst  other  refreshments,  I  see  a  small  b'oy 
gravely  carrying  a  pipe  from  one  to  another 
of  the  customers,  each  of  whom  as  gravely 
takes  a  puff  or  two. 

A  Sart  cafe  looks  like  a  huge,  old-fashioned 
trundle-bed,  sometimes  fifteen  feet  square.  It 
generally  stands  at  the  corners  of  the  streets, 
and  is  always  carpeted  with  fine  rugs,  while  in 
one  corner  stands  a  huge  smoking  samovar, 
with  its  stacks  of  dainty  teacups  and  pots — an 
Oriental  never  makes  his  tea  in  a  metal  vessel. 
There  you  may  see  at  times  crowds  of  men  se- 
dately drinking  the  dainty  beverage.  Whether 
or  not  tea  was  introduced  from  China  or  Russia, 
it  is  now  the  main  drink  of  these  people.  I 
have  never  known  them  to  drink  any  thing 
stronger ;  and  I  know  that  in  the  case  of  my 
guide,  Rachmed,  I  was  obliged  to  order  him  to 
drink  cognac  when  he  had  been  drenched  and  I 
feared  a  cold  for  him.  These  cafes  are  the  most 
characteristic  sio^ht  of   these  far  eastern    towns. 


I04  Trans- Caspia: 

and  are  utterly  unlike  those  of  the  more  westerly 
Orient.  But  we  are  moving  onward,  past  Arrab 
Kahns,  Indian  mud-houses,  fields  of  waving 
grain,  bowers  of  acacia  trees,  fiocks  of  sheep, 
and  droves  of  donkeys  bearing  stately  Sarts  in 
gorgeous  colors.  Dirt  and  dust  every-where. 
Away  to  the  westward,  a  haze  near  the  horizon 
shows  where  lies  the  desert,  which,  thank  God, 
is  left  behind  for  good.  The  walls  of  a  mud 
palace,  twenty-five  feet  high  ;  the  minarets  of  a 
mud  mosque ;  the  towers  of  a  mud  gateway, 
with  mud  walls  stretching  away  on  either  hand, 
and  through  whose  archway  a  long,  dim  vista  of 
bazaars  are  to  be  seen — that  is  Bokhara,  as  we 
first  see  it.  Through  the  crowds  of  people, 
strings  of  camels,  and  droves  of  donkeys,  our 
carnage  makes  slow  progress.  There  to  our 
right  is  one  of  those  huge  tanks  responsible  for 
most  of  the  epidemics  that  visit  this  place,  chol- 
era preferred.  Into  its  waters  are  thrown  every 
thing,  in  its  waters  the  people  bathe,  and  these 
waters  the  people  drink  ;  so,  when  this  has  been 
going  on  for  three  hundred  years,  its  waters  are 
ripe  for  most  any  thing.      To-day  they  look  par- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Cza7\         105 

ticularly  green  and  slimy.  Crowds  of  curious 
people  surround  us,  and  near  by  one  old  man 
holds  his  particular  audience  spellbound  as  he 
recites  in  a  high,  shrill  voice,  some  wonderful 
legend.  Numerous  are  the  vendors  of  fruit  and 
vendors  of  sweetmeats ;   numerous,  also,  are  the 


A  Bokhara   Hen. 

turbaned  Sarts,  smoking  or  sleeping  in  the  sun- 
shine. As  we  pass  down  the  bazaar,  we  are 
either  in  an  intense  shadow  or  in  intense  sun- 
light. From  their  little  booths  on  either  side, 
the  solemn-faced  merchants  regard  us  earnestly  ; 
but  their  wares  are  not  tempting,  and  there  is  no 
odor  ot  coffee  or  attar  of  roses  to  induce  us  to 
tarry  and  purchase,  as  we  have  done  through  so 
many  years  and  in  so  many  bazaars  throughout 


1 06  T7^a7is-  Caspia  : 

the  Orient.  The  great  mosque  claims  our  at- 
tention for  a  time,  and  as  we  enter  the  solemn 
silence  of  its  cloisters,  ushered  thereto  by  a  ma- 
jestic Musselman,  the  noise  of  the  city  falls  away 
into  silence.  Sedate  storks,  that  have  been  com- 
ing here  from  one  generation  to  another,  look 
gravely  down  upon  us.  I  think  I  have  seen  that 
old  fellow,  up  there  on  that  great  dome,  on  the 
roof  of  an  ancient  enabled  house  in  Strasbure. 
He  has  a  look  of  recognition  in  his  eye.  This 
mosque  is  old,  very  old.  Its  spacious  courts 
and  airy  arches  sprang  into  existence  long  cen- 
turies ago.  Those  bright  blue  tiles  in  the  Holy 
of  Holies  and  that  glistening  blue  dome  re- 
flected the  sunlight  for  the  first  time  more  than 
eleven  hundred  years  ago,  when  England  was 
ruled  by  the  Saxons,  France  by  Charlemagne ; 
when  Russia  and  America  were  solitudes  most 
profound. 

The  great  minaret — "  Minari  Katian" — which 
towers  above  the  grand  mosque,  is  still  used  as 
a  place  of  public  execution  on  great  bazaar 
days,  when  the  criminals  are  thrown  from  its 
summit ;  and   I   doubt  if  the  event  causes  these 


I  UK    <,kKAT    MIXARKT,    IJOKIIARA. 


io8  Trans- Caspia  : 

calm  Orientals  to  do  more  than  glance  up  as 
the  wretches  come  hurtlinof  downward,  or  the 
numerous  story-tellers  to  do  more  than  raise 
their  voices  a  little  to  recall  the  wandering 
attention  of  their  audiences.  Human  life  is 
nothing  in  the  Orient ;  and  when  one  reaches 
China,  one  finds  the  condemned  going  to  execu- 
tion with  a  feeling  more  of  curiosity  than  of  fear, 
of  which  they  seem  utterly  devoid.  Barbarous 
tortures  still  exist  in  Bokhara.  A  criminal  is 
beaten  with  sticks,  stabbed  with  knives,  has  his 
eyelids  cut  off  and  eyes  gouged  out,  is  dragged 
at  the  tails  of  horses,  and  finally  either  tossed 
from  this  great  minaret  or  quartered  and  then 
thrown  to  the  dogs. 

Speaking  of  the  waters  in  these  ancient  cis- 
terns, Anthony  Jenkenson  wrote  three  centuries 
ago  as  follows:  "There  is  a  little  river  running 
through  the  middle  of  the  saide  citie,  but  the 
water  thereof  is  most  unwholesome,  for  it 
breedeth  sometimes  in  men  that  drinke  thereof, 
and  especially  in  them  that  be  not  there  born,  a 
worme  of  an  ell  long,  which  lieth  commonly  in 
the  legge  betwixt  the  flesh  and  the  skinne,  and 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  109 

is  pluckt  out  about  the  ancle  with  great  art  and 
cunning ;  the  surgeons  being  much  practiced 
therein,  and  if  shee  breake  in  plucking  out,  the 
partie  dieth,  and  every  day  shee  commeth  out 
about  an  inche,  which  is  rolled  up,  and  so 
worketh  until   shee  be  all  out." 

The  horrible  things  are  sometimes  two  and 
three  feet  long,  and  look  like  vermicelli  ;  so 
Cruzon  tells  us.  He  also  declares  that  "  the 
most  minute  examination  of  the  water  under  the 
microscope  has  never  revealed  the  germ,"  He 
has  a  lot  more  to  say  on  the  subject;  but 
it  is  certainly  not  a  pleasant  topic,  so  we  will 
leave  it. 

Outside  the  gates  are  the  abodes  of  the 
dead ;  thousands  of  oven-shaped  mud  tombs 
crowded  one  on  top  of  the  other.  If  the  dead 
are  so  near  the  surface  one  need  no  more 
wonder  that  cholera — and  of  old  the  plague — is 
supposed  to  have  its  birth  and  eternal  abiding 
place  here  and  in  Samarkand.  The  construc- 
tion of  mud  walls  and  houses  has  reached  perfec- 
tion in  Trans-Caspia.     A  photograph  of  Bokhara 


no  Trans-  Caspia  : 

would  impress  one  with  the  idea  that  it  is  sur- 
rounded with  a  massive  stone  wall.  The  towers, 
turrets,  and  high  walls,  thirty  feet  in  some 
places,  are  all  there,  but  are  all  composed 
of  mud,  built  up  by  the  spadeful.  I  watched 
the  modus  operandi  to-day  with  considerable 
interest.  When  a  wall  is  to  be  built  water 
is  conducted  to  the  spot  in  ditches,  earth  is 
carried  there,  and  work  commences.  Several 
men  below  in  the  ditch  stir  up  the  mud  and 
water  and  throw  it  into  a  pile  above  them. 
Then  a  man  with  a  long-handled  spade  or  shovel 
gouges  out  a  spadeful  and  passes  it  upward, 
where  another  "artist,"  receiving  it  in  his  hands, 
deposits  it  in  its  final  resting-place.  So  the  wall 
is  built,  shovelful  by  shovelful ;  and  while  the 
soil  is  damp,  it  is  fashioned  into  towers  and 
turrets,  and  sometimes  ornamented  into  all  sorts 
of  fanciful  designs.  A  wall  will  be  six  feet 
thick  at  the  base  and  rise  thirty  feet  to  a  width 
of  six  inches.  The  intense  sun  of  summer 
hardens  the  work  until  it  feels  to  the  touch 
like  stone,  and  is  almost  as  enduring. 


The  Sealed  Pi'ovinces  of  the  Czar.        1 1 1 

All  the  ancient  forts  were  built  of  such  mate- 
rials, and  the  Amir's  palace  of  to-day,  a  very 
large  structure,  is  entirely  composed  thereof. 
His  highness  was  away  on  a  visit,  but  through 
the  kindness  of  Mr.  L.  the  palace  was  thrown 
open  for  our  inspection.  It  consisted  of  the 
usual  number  of  courts,  arcades,  Turkish  bath- 
rooms, and  numerous  small  rooms,  all  deco- 
rated in  the  usual  gay  taste  of  the  Sarts  of 
to-day,  who  seem  to  me  to  have  entirely  lost  the 
taste  and  talent  that  produced  such  peerless 
structures  as  the  Taj  Mahal,  the  Delhi  Mosque, 
the  Alhambra,  and  the  beautiful  Medresses  of 
Samarkand.  The  same  holds  true  of  the  mod- 
ern architecture  in  India.  Bokhara  carpets  of 
rare  quality  and  great  value  were  tossed  here 
and  there,  while  some  absurd  French  Mass,  a 
brass  chandelier,  or  some  cheap  English  furni- 
ture, were  kept  carefully  covered  and  only 
exposed  for  our  admiration. 

Passing  finally  into  one  of  the  arcades,  an  at- 
tendant in  gorgeous  robes  and  a  magnificent  tur- 
ban waved  us  toward  a  table  set  for  ten  or  twelve 


THE    AMIR    OF    BOKHARA. 


The  Sealed  Pj'ovinces  of  the  Czar.        113 

persons,  and  covered  with  fifteen  different  kinds 
of  various  colored  sugars,  in  balls  and  squares, 
cones  and  triangles ;  a  plate  of  cherries  and 
apricots  occupied  the  center,  and  was  flanked 
by  some  stale  English  biscuits..  We  scarcely 
knew  what  to  do.  B.  took  one  end  of  the 
festive  board  and  I  the  other;  Abbas,  our  guide, 
cooly  seated  himself  in  the  center,  while  around 
about  us  stood  some  fifteen  or  twenty  gor- 
geously costumed  figures.  Were  they  servants 
or  guests?  We  wished  to  do  the  correct  thing, 
but  if  we  blundered  it  would  be  worse  than  a 
crime  ;  so,  being  in  doubt,  we  did  nothing.  I 
tried  to  swallow  some  of  the  "greenery, 
pinkery "  stuff,  and  choked  in  the  effort.  On 
recovering,  I  found  that  tea  had  been  placed  in 
front  of  me,  and  one  of  the  magnificents  had 
seated  himself  at  some  little  distance  from  the 
table,  and  commenced  a  confab  through  Abbas. 
So  we  offered  him  some  of  his  own  tea,  and 
passed  a  pleasant  half-hour,  sampling  every 
thing  in  sight,  and  are  laid  up  to-night  in  conse- 
quence.     It  was   necessary  to  fee  some  of  those 


114  Trans- Caspia  : 

men,  but  which  one  ?  though  from  the  twinkling- 
eyes  we  knew  all  would  accept  it ;  so,  laying 
five  roubles  on  the  table,  we  adjourned  to  the 
garden.  B,  begged  leave  to  photograph  our 
apparent  host,  whom  we  discovered  afterward 
was  head  policeman — probably  put  there  to  see 
that  we  did  not  make  off  with  a  room  or  two. 
There  wa^  little  else  in  sight.  Consent  was 
given  with  great  dignity  ;  and  during  the  opera- 
tion I  heard  a  scuffle  in  the  room  where  we  had 
left  the  five  roubles.  It  was  too  expressive  to 
need  explanation.  While  the  photographing 
was  in  progress,  the  gardener  came  up  and 
presented  me  with  a  bunch  of  yellow  flowers 
surrounded  by — of  all  things  in  the  world  ! — a 
lot  of  mint.  I  gave  him  a  rouble,  and  horrified 
him  by  immediately  eating  his  gift.  His  solemn 
eastern  eyes  could  not  see  the  long  vista  of  mint 
juleps  that  his  gift  recalled  to  my  memory. 
On  our  way  out,  numerous  guards  presented 
arms,  w^hich  we  acknowledged  with  the  utmost 
gravity,  having  by  this  time  become  fully  con- 
vinced of  our  own  magnificence. 

We  had  been   invited   by  Mr.  L.,  the  political 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.  i  1 5 

agfent,  to  dine  with  him  at  seven.  In  view  of 
our  intended  departure  at  ten,  he  waived  cere- 
mony, and  told  us  to  come  in  our  traveHng 
clothes.  He  lives  in  a  spacious  mansion  near 
the  station,  in  one  of  those  spreading,  one- 
storied  houses  so  common  in  this  land,  and 
aforetimes  in  Russia.  I  can  not  understand 
why  the  Russians  so  dread  fresh  air.  When 
we  called  at  his  house  in  the  morning,  the  outer 
air  was  fresh  and  delightful,  but  it  was  rieor- 
ously  excluded  from  the  house  by  double  win- 
dows. Within  it  was  simply  stifling,  and  we 
returned  in  the  evening  with  the  dread  of  a 
dinner  in  such  an  atmosphere,  but,  on  arrival, 
were  conducted  by  our  host  to  a  side  terrace, 
and  there  found  the  table.  Prince  G.  and  wife 
shortly  joined  the  party,  and  we  passed  a 
charming  two  hours  and  had  an  excellent  dinner. 
You  must  live  on  the  stuff  provided  on  the 
trains  and  at  the  cafes  in  Trans-Caspia  to  appre- 
ciate what  that  meant  to  us.  When  we  finally 
bowed  ourselves  out,  it  was  with  a  better  feeling 
toward  things  Asian,  and  with  us  went  pleasant 
memories  of  our  p-enial  host  and   his  dcliohtful 


1 1 6  Trans-  Caspia  : 

home.  Life  here  would  be  almost  imprisonment 
to  one  accustomed  to  the  great  world,  yet  Mr. 
L.,  a  bachelor,  will  pass  most  of  his  where  we 
left  him.  Separated  from  Europe  by  the  wilds 
of  Russia,  by  two  seas,  by  two  great  chains  of 
mountains,  and  by  that  awful  desert ;  walled  in 
by  Siberia  to  the  north,  with  the  Celestial  Em- 
pire to  the  eastward,  and  the  untrodden  solitudes 
of  the  Himalayas  to  the  south,  what  spot  on 
earth  can  be  more  isolated?  True,  Europe  can 
be  reached  in  ten  days,  but  when  the  cholera 
comes  in,  that  avenue  is  closed  for  months,  and 
the  cholera  does  come  in  almost  every  year. 
I  think  one  year  of  life  here  would  drive  me 
to  face  a  journey  through  the  inferno,  if  the 
exit    to    the    great    "beyond"    lay    that    way. 

There  is  great  curiosity  all  through  Turkistan 
concerning  our  American  boys  who  circled  the 
the  world  on  their  wheels,  and  I  hope,  if  they 
have  not  done  so,  that  they  will  send  a 
copy  of  their  very  interesting  book  to  Baron 
Wrevfsky  at  Tashkend. 

The  Oxus  furnishes  all  the  water  for  drinking 
or  other  use    for  hundreds    of   miles  around    it, 


TJie  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 1 7 

that  precious  fluid  being  conveyed  in  huge  tanks 
placed  on  flat  cars.  Oil  is  the  fuel  most  in  use 
and    is    conveyed    in    like    manner. 

I   am  rather  anxious  about  B.      He  is  threat- 
ened   with    an    ulcerated    ear,   dang^erous    at    all 


f,i~  -  >-;--■' 


Mud   Gateway  at    Bokhara. 

times,  though  I  don't  tell  him  so,  and  doubly 
so  here,  where  I  fear  we  shall  find  no  good 
doctors.  We  shall  wait  at  Samarkand  until  he 
is  better.  It  may  end  the  tour,  but  that  is  a 
small  matter.  We  reach  Samarkand  at  1 1  this 
A.   M.,   where  we  shall  find  a  doctor  and  where 


1 1 8  Trans-  Caspia  : 

letters  from  home  should  reach  us.  Four  hours 
before  our  arrival  the  mountains  again  loom  up 
in  the  distance,  not  to  be  lost  sight  of  for 
many  months.  On  their  other  side  lies  India 
and  in  their  heart  the  \^ale  of  Cashmere,  which 
D.   V.   we    mean    to    see. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.  1 1 9 


CHAPTER    XL 

SAMARKAND. 

"  Look  around  thee  now  on  Samarkand! — 

Is  she  not  queen  of  eaith  ?  her  pride 
Above  all  cities  ?  ir.  her  hand 

Their  destinies  ?  in  all  beside 
Of  glory  which  the  world  hath  known 
Stands  she  not  noblj'  and  alone? 
Falling — her  veriest  stepping-stone 
Shall  form  the  pedestal  of  a  throne. 
And  who  her  sovereign  ?     Timour — he 

Whom  the  astonished  people  saw 
Striding  o'er  empires  haughtily, 

A  diadem'd  outlaw!" 

"  For  one  touch  of  her  hand, 
I  would  give  Bokhara,  I  would  give  Samarkand." 

Samarkand,  June  9,  1894. 

I  AM  asked  from  home  whether  that  last  is 
mere  poetic  Hcense,  and  whether  Samarkand 
is  not  one  of  those  places  that  anybody  would 
give  away. 

Deeply  embowered  in  the  groves  m  the  valley 
of  the  Zarafshan  fstrewer  of  gold),  stands  the 
poetic  city  of  Samarkand — the  home  of  Tamer- 
lane, the  home  of  all   the  romance  and  poetry  in 


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The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Cza7\  121 

the  East ;  where  the  deHcious  grapes  and  figs, 
peaches,  pomegranates,  plums,  apples,  almonds, 
and  apricots  grow,  and  dainty  white  mulberries 
tumble  over  the  garden  walls  or  drop  on  one's 
tea  table  out  by  the  rushing  brooks,  always  to  be 
found  in  her  gardens.  Samarkand  was  old  and 
Samarkand  was  beautiful  before  the  advent  of 
our  Christ.  Some  say  that  she  vies  in  antiquity 
with  ancient  Egypt.  Be  that  as  it  may,  she 
stands  peerless  to-day  in  this  heart  of  Central 
Asia,  and  all  through  the  blessing  of  the  waters 
of  the  Zarafshan — true  gold,  verily,  in  this  land 
of  the  sun.  Forty-three  great  canals,  whose 
combined  length  is  over  six  hundred  miles,  flow 
from  that  river  in  a  network  over  all  the  land, 
and  from  these  a  thousand  branches  complete  a 
perfect  system  of  irrigation.  But  around  the 
smiling  valley  spreads  forever  the  desert :  to  the 
south  and  west,  that  of  the  Black  Sands  ;  to  the 
north  and  east,  the  "  Famished  Steppes,"  over 
which  the  hordes  of  Siberia  and  China  have  so 
often  descended  upon  this  Eden  of  the  West ; 
and  if  at  any  point  the  system  of  irrigation  fails, 
then,  like  the  shadow  of  death,  the  desert  creeps 


12  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

slowly  over  the  valley,  soon  suffocating  and 
smothering  all  the  beauty  in  its  terrible  embrace. 
Indeed,  the  very  Zarafshan  itself  has  no  outlet, 
its  diminished  waters  being  seized  and  sucked 
under  by  the  pitiless  sands  before  they  can 
reach  the  Oxus.*  It  is  claimed  that  its  waters 
are  steadily  diminishing,  and,  in  consequence, 
that  the  oasis  of  Bokhara  grows  smaller  and 
smaller  each  year,  which,  if  it  goes  on,  means 
destruction  ;  but  the  traveler  of  to-day  sees  not 
the  "handwriting  on  the  wall." 

When  Schuyler  visited  here  in  1873,  Russian 
Samarkand  scarcely  existed,  and  was  certainly 
not  a  place  of  beauty.  To-day  it  is  like  a  frame 
of  green  and  gold  surrounding,  apparently,  the 
brilliant  oriental  picture  of  the  ancient  city. 
From  the  railway  station  stretches  away  a  broad 
boulevard,  bordered  by  quadruple  rows  of  wav- 
ing trees ;  and  as  one  enters  the  town,  one 
catches  sight  of  the  governor's  pleasant  home 
on  one  side,  with  the  blue  and  gold  domes  of 
the  Russian  church  just  beyond  it,  while  in  the 
distance    broken    arches   and   a  wild   jumble    of 

*  The  Amu-Daria,  the  ancient  Oxus. 


The  Sealed  Provmces  of  the  Czar.         123 

leaning  towers  tell  where  the  ancient  city  is  to 
be  found. 

Strangers  are  so  few  and  far  between  in  this 
remote  eastern  city,  that  they  are  subjected  to 
almost  an  autopsy  on  arrival,  in  order  to  entirely 


Russian  Church,  Samarkand. 

satisfy  these  servants  of  the  Czar  that  their 
internal  construction  does  not  hold  something 
that  may  prove  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of 
that  potentate.  Strangers  always  arrive  by  the 
through  train  from  "  Usin-ada,"  and  are  looked 
for  when  that  train  comes  in,  which  it  does  three 
times  a  week.      We,  having  stopped  at  Bokhara, 


1 24  Trans-  Caspia  : 

rather  than  remain  there  another  night,  took  a 
slow  train,  and  reached  here  all  unexpected,  to 
the  utter  upsetting  of  the  many  officials. 
"  People  who  would  come  by  such  a  train  must 
certainly  be  up  to  dark  and  mysterious  deeds." 
They  are  sure  of  that.  Our  numerous  boxes 
must  contain  gunpowder.  Visiting  cards  pos- 
sess immense  importance  in  the  eyes  of  these 
eastern  officials ;  and  just  here  I  present 
mine.  They  can 't  read  one  word  thereon, 
but  they  see  several  names,  and  each  one 
must  mean  a  title  or  denote  high  office.  If 
they  make  a  mistake  and  bother  some  one 
in  position,  they  know  they  will  lose  their 
heads.  Sailing  serenely  on,  we  enter  a  drosky, 
leaving  them  standing  in  a  row,  bowing  deeply, 
the  one  who  holds  the  card  being  accorded  the 
position  of  honor  in  the  center.  Still  they  are 
not  sure,  and  all  day  our  hotel  is  under  surveil- 
lance— we  might  run  away  with  it !  Passports 
are  delivered,  and  returned  this  morning  with 
the  assuring  message  that  "the  gentlemen  may 
go  where  they  desire,  stay  as  long  as  they 
please,  and  do  what  they  like."     Many  thanks. 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai\         125 

Rather  late,  though,  as  we  are  almost  through 
the  Russian  dominions.  After  Osh,  the  permis- 
sion of  the  Czar  will  be  worth  about  as  much  as 
his  interdiction — ^just  nothing  at  all.  CYou  will 
come  to  the  conclusion,  if  you  finish  these  notes, 
that  in  that  "almost  throuo^h  "  I  was  somewhat 
premature.) 

Russian  Samarkand  is  charming,  and  doubly 
so  to  our  eyes  and  bodies  after  the  weary  days 
just  passed.  Its  streets  stretch  away  in  broad 
avenues,  bordered  by  four  rows,  on  each  side,  of 
silver-leaf  and  Lombardy  poplars.  Down  both 
sides  of  every  causeway  running  brooks  go 
singing  along.  Water,  that  greatest  blessing 
to  man  in  this  parched  land,  abounds  every- 
where. Masses  of  snowy  catalpa  blossoms 
shower  upon  us  as  we  pass,  cherries  and  mul- 
berries drop  over  the  neighboring  walls,  the  air 
sweeps  down  from  the  mountains  pure  and 
delightful,  and  life  takes  a  new  lease.  This 
little  hotel  is  a  quaint  arrangement  of  detached 
rooms  and  courts,  somewhat  like  the  Indian 
bungalow,  yet  also  like  the  Mexican  houses. 
Its   hostess   is    French,   and  for  a  time  we    lose 


126  Trans-  Caspia  : 

sight  of  Russian  cooking,  with  its  attendant 
grease.  The  peace  and  quiet  of  the  whole 
place  reminds  me  strongly  of  Kandy,  in  Ceylon, 
yet  it  possesses  the  freshness  of  Granada.  B.'s 
ear  will  keep  us  here  a  few  days,  and,  though 
our  time  is  precious,  I  am  not  sorry.  As  I 
walked  to  the  post-office  this  morning,  I  caught 
sight  in  the  distance  of  some  domes  and  mina- 
rets ;  but  that  is  all  so  far  of  the  Samarkand 
of  Tamerlane.  We  shall  explore  further  to- 
morrow. 

How  the  memories  of  childhood  cling  to  one, 
and  how  strange  to  find  the  origin  of  one  of 
those  memories  off  here  in  Samarkand!  As  I 
rest  for  a  moment  on  a  bench  by  a  running 
brook,  away  in  front  of  me  stretches  a  vista  of 
sunny  street.  Down  it  comes  a  drove  of  cattle 
and  some  sheep,  and  behind  them  a  picturesque 
boy  blowing  a  horn.  The  beasts  seem  to  under- 
stand and  obey  its  sounds. 

"  Little  Bov  Blue,  come  blow  vour  horn  ; 
The  sheep  in  the  meadow,  the  cows  in  the  corn." 

Many  a  time,  as  a  boy,  I  have  wondered 
what  old   Mother  Goose  meant  by  that.      "  We 


STREET    IN    SAMARKAND. 


128  Trans-  Caspia  : 

never  blew  horns  for  sheep  and  cows."  I  must 
reach  Samarkand,  must  leave  youth  behind  me, 
before  the  explanation  comes.  Did  Mother 
Goose,  I  wonder,  find  her  rhymes  and  melodies 
amongst  these  far  eastern  tribes  ?  Did  she  ever 
come  from  Boston  to  Samarkand  ?  How  old 
every  thing  is!  I  have  also  discovered  the 
abiding  place  of  "Balaam's  ass."  It  is  in  the 
adjoining  lot.  Balaam  did  not  possess  one  ass, 
but  a  lot  of  them;  and  they  lift  up  their  voices 
in  constant  lamentations,  coming  often  to  my 
bed-room  window  to  pour  them  into  my  sym- 
pathetic ear,  a  confidence  that  is  not  fully  appre- 
ciated at  3  A.  M.  I  have  no  recollection  of  any 
such  conduct  on  the  part  of  their  sedate  and 
dignified  brethren  in  Egypt;  but  here  patience 
has  ceased  to  be  a  virtue,  and  the  mourning  is 
incessant.  "  Oh,  my  brother  from  that  far  west- 
ern land,  where  even  a  little  ass  like  me  has 
some  chance  to  sleep  in  quiet,  blame  me  not,  I 
beseech  you,  that  I  weep.  You  have  seen  how 
dignified  and  self-contained  my  brethren  are  in 
Egypt ;  but  there  we  never  carry  more  than  two 
of  the  heathens  at  the  most,  whereas  here,  you 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  129 

see,  it  is  always  three,  and  sometimes  four. 
Therefore  I  weep  and  will  not  be  comforted." 
And  so  it  is.  One  little  patient  donkey  will 
come  plodding  along,  carrying  three  balloon-like 
figures  in  gorgeous  robes  and  towering  turbans, 
nothing  to  be  seen  of  the  beast  save  the  tip  of 
the  tail  and  the  points  of  his  ears,  until  one 
almost  fancies  that  the  figures  on  his  back  have 
consolidated  their  six  lesfs  into  four  for  grreater 
accommodation  and  speed. 

The  way  to  our  prophet  Daniel's  tomb  (how 
it  came  to  be  here  I  know  not),  is  lined  with 
begging  lepers.  I  did  not  know  that  they 
were  such  and  wondered  why  when  we  alighted 
they  did  not  crowd  around  us  for  alms.  They 
showed  no  signs  of  that  terrible  scourge,  and 
it  was  not  until  our  return  to  the  city  that  I 
realized  with  what  the  hideous  object  approach- 
ing me  on  a  donkey  was  afflicted.  I  had  seen 
many  at  other  eastern  points,  but  none  so  horri- 
ble as  this.  It,  for  I  do  not  know  whether  it  was 
a  man  or  woman,  did  not  look  like  a  human  be- 
ing. With  a  river  near  by  I  should  certainly  put 
a  period  to  my  existence,  if  I  were  so  accursed. 


1 30  Trans-  Caspia  : 

As  for  Daniel's  tomb,  it  is  a  long  Arab-like 
structure,  with  a  raised  pole  at  one  end,  and  is 
some  twenty-five  yards  in  length.  He  is  said 
— here — to  have  been  a  hundred  yards  long 
when  first  interred,  but  has  shrunken  to  twenty- 
five.  At  that  rate  he  will  be,  ere  many  more 
centuries  pass  over  him,  on  the  minus  side  as 
to  stature ;  still,  twenty-five  yards  even  in  our 
progressive  days  can  not  be  called  undersized, 
and  at  this  slow  rate  of  shrinkage  he  will  still 
be  of  good  height  long  years  after  we  have 
passed  away  into  nothingness.  Now,  his  rest- 
ing-place is  much  affected  by  Sarts  who  desire 
to  take  tea  in  the  country,  and  a  samovar  is 
steaming    away   just    over    his    head. 

These  Sarts  are  a  race  that  seems  a  cross 
between  the  Turk  and  the  Parsee;  with  the  dress 
and  religion  of  the  former,  they  possess  the 
clear-cut  features  and  grand  eyes  of  the  latter, 
and  they  are,  I  am  told,  much  like  them  and 
the  Jews,  in  the  matter  of  barter  and  sale. 
The  same  terrible  and  loathsome  disease,  com- 
ing from  the  dirty  water,  is  prevalent  here  as 
in    Bokhara. 


132  Ti'aiis-  Caspia  : 

Tamerlane  sleeps,  under  a  small  black  marble 
tomb  covered  with  inscriptions,  surrounded  by 
his  wives,  his  children,  and  his  teachers.  A 
bright  blue  porcelain  dome  that  one  sees 
rising  from  the  midst  of  a  clump  of  trees, 
soars  above  them.  Water  gushes  around  the 
shrine  and  the  place  is  cool  and  fresh — in 
marked  contrast  to  most  eastern  shrines,  where 
the  dust  is  generally  thick  enough  to  hide 
all  beauty.  He  owes  the  beauty  of  his  rest- 
ing-place to  the  Russians,  who  have  con- 
verted this  spot  in  fifteen  years  from  a  dusty, 
arid    place    to  a   charming    oasis. 

In  the  old  city  there  is  what  I  have  never 
seen  in  Oriental  towns  before — a  great  square, 
and  I  know  of  no  more  picturesque  spot  in  the 
east.  Three  stately  buildings,  called  "  Med- 
resses"  or  universities,  rise  around  it,  a  pic- 
turesque jumble  of  domes,  alcoves,  and  fretted 
gateways,  all  covered  \Yith  porcelain  tiling  of 
turquoise  blue  and  dark  blue  on  a  ground  of 
yellow,  while  minarets  out  of  the  perpendicular 
complete  the  fantastic  effect.  The  square  is 
the  great  mart  of  the  city  and  the  crowds  ebb 


134  T7'a  lis-  Casp  ia  : 

and  flow  and  sway  hither  and  thither  Uke  the 
waves    of  the    sea. 

Our  west  has  not  as  yet  affected  these  eastern 
peoples  in  their  love  of  color,  and,  save  in  Tunis, 
I  have  never  seen  such  gorgeousness.  Here 
comes  an  old  man — on  the  inevitable  donkey — 
wrapped  in  a  garment  of  heavy  crimson,  bro- 
caded with  flaring  yellow  figures,  while  from 
his  head  rises  a  turban  of  green  and  gold  that 
would  make  a  western  man  totter;  but  he  sits 
erect.  His  pointed  red  slippers  are  pressed 
closely  into  the  little  beast  that  carries  him 
forward  on  a  steady  trot.  Our  eyes  are  fairly 
dazzled  by  the  kaleidoscopic  changes  of  color. 
Our  cameras  excite  much  interest,  but  people 
do  not  appear  to  be  afraid  of  them  as  they 
used  to  be  of  a  pair  of  opera  glasses  in  Cairo 
twenty    years    ago. 

I  was  much  disappointed  at  Bokhara  in  the 
display  of  rugs  and  carpets.  We  can  see 
better  specimens  any  day  at  home  or  in  Europe 
from  this  same  market,  and  I  fancy  that  the 
fine  products  are  reserved  for  export  and  the 
prices  that  are  obtained  thereby.      We  saw  none 


The  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         135 

of  that  peculiar  pattern  so  familiar  to  us  all 
as  "  Bokhara  carpets."  I  am  told  that  they 
are  made  in  the  outlying  towns  of  the  pro- 
vince. There  were  none  even  in  Amir's  palace. 
The  Russians  are  very  polite  to  people  they 

once  admit  to    these    countries.      General    

sent  an  officer  here  this  afternoon  to  act  as  a 
guide  for  us  wherever  we  might  desire  to  go, 
and  we  desire  to  go  every-where.  Backed  by 
the  power  of  the  Czar,  we  broke  down  such 
doors  as  refused  to  open  to  our  knock.  This 
was,  however,  not  necessary,  save  at  an  old 
mosque  or  so,  where  the  custodian,  contrary 
to  orders,  had  gone  off  and  locked  up  the 
towers.  One  always  marvels  at  the  continual 
locking  up  of  places,  by  these  people,  that  con- 
tain absolutely  nothing  one  could  carry  away. 
A  rude  stone  stairway  is  as  religiously  guarded 
as  though  it  led  to  untold  treasures.  We  par- 
ticularly desired  to  ascend  to  some  point  from 
which  we  could  secure  good  views  of  the 
"  Medresses,"  of  which  I  have  spoken  before. 
After  breaking  open  several  doors  and  ascend- 
ing numerous  dusty  stairways,  we  reached    the 


136 


Trans-  Caspia  : 


roof  of  one  of  them,  which  commanded  a  good 
view  of  the  others,  and  from  which  we  also  had 
a  ghmpse  of  the  city.  Just  below  spread  the 
square,  humming  w^ith  oriental  life,  and  sur- 
rounded  by   the    Medresses,   with    their   domes, 


Tomb  of  Tamerlane,  Samarkand. 

arches,  and  minarets,  around  which  thousands 
of  birds  circled  in  the  evening  air.  The  setting 
sun  lit  up  the  rich  blues  of  the  buildings,  and 
tinted  even  the  mud  city  of  the  Sarts  with  a  rosy 
glow.  Away  to  the  south  rose  the  dome  over 
Tamerlane's  tomb,  and  behind  the  snow  moun- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 3  7 

tains  closed  the  prospect.  All  around  spread 
the  waving  trees  of  the  Russian  city.  The  air 
blew  fresh  and  sweet,  full  of  the  odor  of  the 
catalpa.  Not  far  to  the  north  rose  the  ruins  of 
the  great  mosque,  the  only  building  destroyed 
when  Russia  captured  the  town.  It  was  built 
by  the  wife  of  Tamerlane,  who  never  entirely 
finished  it,  and  is  more  picturesque  in  its  ruin 
than  it  could  have  been  in  its  more  perfect  state. 
I  notice  that  these  holy  houses  of  the  Prophet, 
as  well  as  those  of  the  universities,  are  nearly 
all  done  in  the  three  colors,  turquoise  blue  and 
dark  blue  on  a  yellow  ground.  Also,  that  there 
is  not  the  usual  jumble  of  sacred  texts  thrown 
here,  there,  and  every-where,  but  simply  now 
and  then  a  panel  or  band  of  them,  while  the 
other  decorations  are  geometrical  in  design  ;  the 
wall  of  Troy  pattern,  and  many  of  those  pat- 
terns so  familiar  to  one  on  the  canvas-work  done 
at  home,  but  all  in  the  three  colors  mentioned. 
The  domes  are  always  turquoise  blue  porcelain, 
surmounted  by  a  golden  crescent.  The  ancient 
Sarts  had  better  taste  than  most  of  the  orientals. 
These  effects  are  charming,  and  one  can  not  but 


SHOWING    THE    MOSAICS    ON    A    MINARET. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  139 

think  that,  were  Constantinople  decorated  in 
such  a  manner,  it  would  be  much  more  beautiful, 
whereas  now  I  think  that  one  is  somewhat  dis- 
appointed at  the  dullness  of  the  first  view  of 
that  city  from  the  Golden  Horn. 

Passine  througrh  the  fantastic  facade  of  the 
Medresses  (shown  in  the  illustration),  we  en- 
tered a  vast  inclosed  square,  surrounded  by- 
small  chambers,  with  platforms  before  each 
of  them.  Those  were  the  school-rooms,  and 
in  several  we  found  groups  of  teachers  and 
scholars  deep  in  the  study  of  the  Koran.  In 
the  center  of  the  square  stood  one  of  those 
stone  structures,  like  an  open  book,  used  of  old 
to  support  some  ancient  copy  of  the  Prophet's 
writings,  most  of  which  are  now  in  the  mu- 
seums of  Russia. 

We  have  visited  the  celebrated  "  Kok  Tash  " 
(blue  stone),  about  which  some  have  written,  but 
which  so  few,  I  venture  to  say,  have  ever  seen. 
I  know  of  one  writer  who  plainly  gives  himself 
away  by  describing  it  as  "blue."  It  is,  on  the 
contrary,  a  yellowish-gray,  with  nothing  blue 
about  it.      In  size,  it  must  be  about  ten  by  four 


The  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  141 

feet,  and  some  two  feet  thick,  with  the  front 
covered  with  arabesques.  It  stands  where  it 
has  ahvays  stood,  on  a  platform  under  a  pagoda, 
the  pagoda  having  been  for  the  past  twenty-two 
years  inclosed  in  a  Russian  fort,  only  to  be 
entered  by  special  permission.  We  had  such, 
and  were  also  escorted  by  an  officer ;  so  we  not 
only  entered,  but  were  allowed  to  photograph 
the  stone,  though  I  fear  the  light  was  not 
favorable.  It  is  said  that,  in  the  days  before 
Tamerlane,  a  bright  blue  stone  surmounted  this, 
and  on  that  was  placed  the  throne  chair,  now  in 
the  museum  of  the  Kremlin,  at  Moscow.  I  saw 
it  there  some  years  since — a  square  structure, 
heavily  carved  and  inlaid.  The  Chinese  lay 
claim  to  the  Kok  Tash,  and  so  does  Bokhara ; 
but  Russia  says  that  it  must  remain  here,  and  I 
am  under  the  impression  she  will  have  her  way 
about  it.     Schuyler  tells  us  that: 

"  It  has  been  common  to  speak  of  this  stone 
as  a  blue  or  green  stone,  the  word  kok  usuall)' 
meaning  one  of  those  colours,  and  Lehmann  (if 
it  be  not  a  remark  of  the  editor)  in  his  travels 
speaks   of    the    stone   as    being   of   lapis  lazuli. 


142 


Trans-  Caspia . 


evidently  from  hearsay.  Kok,  however,  is  an 
indeterminate  word  for  colour,  and  even  means 
grey,   as   in   the   sport   of  kok-biira,   '  grey   wolf.' 


The  Kok  Task. 


The  term  might  thus  be  applicable  to  marble. 
It  is  probable  that  the  name  of  this  stone  had 
another    origin.      Baber    speaks    of    the    palace 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         1 43 

which-  Timur  (Tamerlain)  constructed  in  the 
citadel  of  Samarkand  as  being  stately,  and  four 
stories  high,  and  famous  by  the  name  of  kok- 
sarai,  just  as  the  palace  of  Timur  in  Kesh  was 
called  ak-sarai,  or  '  white  palace.'  The  kok- 
sarai,  Baber  says,  '  is  remarkable  on  this  ac- 
count :  that  every  prince  of  the  race  of  Timur 
who  is  elevated  to  the  throne,  mounts  it  at  this 
place,  and  so  one  who  loses  his  life  for  aspiring 
to  the  throne  loses  it  here.  Insomuch  that  this 
has  passed  into  a  common  expression,  that  such 
a  prince  has  been  condemned  to  the  kok-sarai,  is 
a  hint  which  is  perfectly  well  understood  to 
mean  that  he  has  been  put  to  death.'  The  kok- 
tash,  we  are  told,  served  as  the  foundations  for 
the  throne  of  Timur,  and  probably  received  its 
name  from  being  the  famous  stone  which  was  in 
the  kok-sarai.  The  elevation  of  the  sovereign 
on  the  kok-tash  passed  into  a  custom,  and  a 
legend  arose  that  the  stone  had  fallen  from 
heaven,  and  would  not  allow  a  false  Khan,  or 
one  not  of  genuine  descent,  to  approach  it ;  and 
as  late  as  1722,  in  the  rebellion  against  Abul 
Feiz  Khan,  the  complaint  was  made  that  he  had 


144  Trans- Caspia : 

never  fulfilled  the  formality  of  sitting  on  the 
kok-tash,  and  the  rebels  proclaimed  in  his  place 
Rejen  Kahn,  who  was  consecrated  in  the  usual 
manner." 

After  all,  princes  and  peoples  may  pass  away, 
but  tradition  remains.  Tradition  governs  the 
Russia  of  to-day  as  firmly  as  it  has  governed 
these  empires  of  the  East  for  centuries  on  cen- 
turies ;  and  Russia's  emperor,  broad-minded 
and  liberal  as  he  is,  and  possessed  with  a  vast 
love  for  his  people,  is  utterly  powerless  to 
change  the  established  order  of  things  ordained 
by  "  tradition."  That  name  is  also  the  last  and 
greatest  reply  of  the  Church  of  Rome  to  all 
things  which  she  can  not  explain — "tradition 
teaches  it" — and  she  demands  as  blind  and  im- 
plicit faith  in  the  dogmas  of  tradition  as  does 
the  throne  of  Russia  from  its  humblest  peasant 
to  its  sliofhtest  word. 

CD 

This  day  has  been  a  fast  and  feast  amongst 
the  Mohammedans,  every  man  of  whom  blazes 
with  gorgeous  clothing.  Now  and  then  a  quiet, 
heavily-veiled    little    figure   in   dark   blue   glides 


The  Sealed  Provmces  of  the  Czar.         145 

along,  but  these  figures  are  not  many  in  num- 
ber— the  women's  place  is  not  on  the  street. 
We  spent  an  hour  this  afternoon  with  Count 


A  Samarkand  Maiden. 


R.,  the  governor  of  Samarkand,  at  "  Govern- 
ment House."  Russia  houses  her  officials  well, 
and   his   quarters   are  delightfully  situated    in   a 


146  Trans- Caspia 

park  overflowing  with  beautiful  shrubs  and 
flowers,  the  former  topped  by  our  own  spread- 
ing elms.  In  fact,  the  place  could  have  been 
taken  for  American,  so  far  as  the  foliage  went. 

\  The  house  seemed  mostly  portico,  and  showed 
somewhat  the  effects  of  an  earthquake  that 
visited    the    town    last  winter.     Those    pleasant 

\  attentions  from  nature  are  not  infrequent  here, 
yet  the  old  mosques  and  leaning  minarets  fall 
not. 

We  nave  at  last  located  Rachmed,  the  guide 
who  served  Bouvalot,  Prince  Galitzine,  and  the 
Duke  d'Orleans,  and  shall  await  his  comingr  on 
Sunday  next.  I  rather  fear  he  will  prove  too 
magnificent  for  his  place.  If  so,  modest  Abbas 
will  have  to  do,  though  we  think  it  best  to  have 
two  guides,  if  possible.  We  may  desire  to 
separate  at  Osh,  where  we  could  not  find  an 
extra  one,  so  must  perforce  take  him  from  here. 
My  original  desire  was  to  go  via  Kashgar, 
Yarkand,  and  Leh.  I  am  not  a  sportsman,  and 
that  route  offers  much  finer  scenery,  much 
greater  objects  of  interest,  than  the  barren 
Pamirs — a  spot  rich  in   "  Ovis  Poli  "  (mountain 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar-.         147 

sheep),  but  dreary  in  the  extreme  ;  a  national 
park,  as  it  were,  reserved  by  nature  for  her  own, 
and  also  to  form  a  barrier  between  the  nations 
who  surge  around  its  base  ;  barren  of  scenery, 
barren  of  verdure,  barren  of  grandeur — desola- 
tion over  all  and  through  all ;  whereas  the  other 
route  offers  from  Osh  onward  the  grandest  of 
scenery,  though  one  must  pass  some  desert. 
Still,  the  cities  of  Kashgar,  Yarkand,  and  Leh, 
and  the  tremendous  Killian  and  Karakoram 
Passes,  eighteen  thousand  feet  up,  repay  all  that, 
and  I  reach  Cashmere,  the  goal  of  my  ambitions 
for  years,  in  time  to  see  something  of  it.  Via 
the  Pamirs,  I  can  simply  pass  through  that  ro- 
mantic vale  and  hurry  southward,  as  the  journey 
will  occupy  a  month  longer  than  the  Kashgar 
route.  However,  this  is  a  question  I  shall  not 
have  to  decide  until  we  reach  Osh. 

I  think  our  sendinof  for  Rachmcd  has  had  a 
good  effect  upon  Abbas.  He  has  awakened, 
and  spends  his  time  devising  all  sorts  of  in- 
genious things,  whereby  our  journey  may  be 
made  more  pleasant.  Just  now  he  brought  in  a 
tin  wash-basin.      He    had  made  a  cover,  with  a 


RACHMED." 


The  Sealed  Pi'oviuces  of  the  Czar.  149 

handle,  for  it,  by  means  of  a  piece  of  leather, 
which  he  had  plaited  down  over  the  rim,  and  ran 
a  strap  through  the  holes  in  the  plaits,  that, 
when  buckled,  held  the  cover  securely  on.  In 
this  he  has  packed  all  my  sponges,  soaps,  etc., 
and  marked  the  leather  with   my  name. 

I  expect  to  have  trouble  to-morrow  with  these 
curious  bankers.  I  doubt  if  they  will  furnish  me 
money,  on  my  letter  of  credit,  unless  I  wire  to 
London,  which  will  have  to  be  done,  as  this  is 
my  last  point  until    India  be  reached. 

For  our  five  hundred  miles'  journey  to  Osh, 
we  have  purchased  a  very  good  tarantass — 
"good"  as  those  vehicles  go.  Long  and  low, 
with  neither  seats  nor  springs,  it  does  not  look 
very  enticing  ;  but  it  is  all  that  the  land  affords. 
It  is  strongly  built,  and  we  trust  may  resist 
the  jolting  and  pulling  from  three  horses  abreast 
that  it  is  soon  to  receive.  We  shall  sleep  in  it 
all  the  way,  and,  when  our  journey  is  over,  sell 
the  thing  for  twenty  roubles  or  less.  It  cost 
eighty.  I  beg  that  you  who  think  that  a  journey 
across  our  land  is  a  bother,  just  to  come  here. 
If   this  tour  throuLfh   Asia  docs   not   hasten    the 


1 50  Trans-  Caspia  : 

whitening  of  your  hair,  I  shall  be  surprised  ;  and 
the  bleaching  will  come  all  the  sooner  from  the 
fact  that  all  the  annoyance  and  bother  is  so 
utterly  senseless,  from  that  caused  by  those  in 
high  authority  to  the  boots  which  you  are  forced 
to  kick  as  a  relief  to  your  feelings,  though  not 
from  any  notion  that  it  will  let  light  in  upon  his 
blackness  of  intellect. 

I  have  just  spent  a  most  exasperating  day, 
trying  in  the  only  bank  in  the  place  to  draw 
money  on  my  letter  of  credit.  The  letter  is  on 
one  of  the  largest  banks  in  London,  and  these 
people  see  that  it  has  been  honored  several 
times  in  Russia,  and  still  calls  for  a  large 
balance.  But  no,  because  their  name  does  not 
appear  among  the  hundred  or  so  printed  on  its 
extra  sheet,  they  are  firmly  convinced  that  the 
drafts  drawn  by  me  would  be  dishonored.  They 
will  telegraph  to  Bokhara  ;  and  I  spend  twenty 
dollars  wiring  London,  with  small  hope  of  reply, 
as  there  is  little  chance  of  the  message  getting 
through  in  a  comprehensible  shape.  That  is  the 
best  I  can  do.  So  I  wait,  and  have  waited  all 
day.     We   shall   probably  lose   three   days,  if   I 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 5  i 

am  able  to  go  on  at  all.  It  is  only  within  a  year 
that  this  place  has  had  any  bank.  A  man  in 
business  here  before  that  time  was  forced  to  be 
his  own  banker  and  carry  all  his  cash  in  his 
pocket,  even  to  the  amount  of  twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  roubles.  It  would  almost  seem  that, 
if  Russia  did  not  make  the  life  of  her  people  as 
hard,  horrible,  and  inconvenient  as  possible,  she 
would  fear  the  total  wreck  of  the  empire. 

I  may  add  here,  that  I  never  did  get  the 
money,  and  only  saved  delay  through  B.'s  kind- 
ness in  loaning  it.  I  gave  him  a  check  on  my 
home  bank,  which  to  date — October — has  never 
turned  up ;  but  neither  has  B.,  who  must  be 
either  lost  in  the  Pamirs  or  somewhere  in  India. 
I  wanted  him  to  send  the  check  to  his  home 
bank,  which  would  put  it  through  for  collection, 
but  he  feared  "it  might  be  lost,"  evidently  con- 
sidering his  own  pocket,  though  he  must  almost 
pass  through  fire  and  flood,  as  a  safer  place  than 
the  mails  of  the   Russians. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


"All  that  tread  the  earth  are  but  a  handful    to   the    tribes    that 
slumber  in  its  bosom." 

OUT  past  the  valley  of  the  lepers,  and  run- 
ning far  up  the  side  of  a  dusty  hill,  rises  the 
famous  tomb  and  mosque  combined,  called  "  Shah 
Zindeh."  Early  in  Musselman  days,  Kasim  Ibu 
Abbas  came  to  Samarkand  and  preached  the 
Koran,  until  here  one  day  he  was  killed  by 
some  enemy — decapitated,  so  the  story  runs ; 
but  that  was  a  small  matter  to  so  holy  a  man. 
Seizing  his  head,  he  leaped  into  a  well,  where 
he  abides  unto  this  day.  He  was  expected  out 
to  assist  in  repulsing  the  Russians  in  1868,  but 
did  not  come  ;  therefore  the  belief  that  there  is 


TJie  Scaled  Pi'ovmccs  of  the  Cza7\  153 

a  greater  foe  than  Russia,  for  whom  he  waits 
and  watches.  As  we  enter  the  portal  of  the 
mosque,  grave-faced  Sarts  arise  and  salute  us. 
Very  stately  are  these  men,  and  possessed,  I 
fancy,  of  great  wisdom.  One  of  them  advances 
and  offers  to  show  us  the  Holy  of  Holies.  The 
mosque  seems  to  consist  of  a  long  flight  of  steps, 
leading  upward  into  dense  shadows.  On  either 
side,  as  we  mount,  we  notice  alcoves  and  niches 
devoted  to  prayer,  and  far  up  we  enter  the 
shrine — which  covers  the  well  and  tomb — empty, 
as  are  all  such  places,  save  for  a  few  rugs  and 
an  immense  and  splendid  Koran.  Underneath 
and  around  are  inner  cells  and  rooms,  to  which 
the  daylight  and  warmth  never  enter,  and  where 
the  air  is  deathly  with  its  terrible  chill.  It 
penetrates  to  our  very  marrow,  and  drives  us 
forth  shortly  to  the  sunlight  and  life  above. 
The  old  Sart  is  devout,  but  not  too  much  so  to 
accept  our  money ;  and  leaving  him,  we  pass 
outward  onto  the  surrounding  hills,  graveyards, 
all  of  them.  Thousands  of  tombs  thickly  cov- 
ering the  yellow  earth  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,     and     such     lonely,     dilaqidated     tombs ! 


1 54  Trans-  Caspia  : 

Some  skulking  dogs — or  are  they  jackals — 
skurry  away  as  we  appear,  and  our  advent 
causes  a  flock  of  vultures  to  rise  from  a  newly 
made  grave  and  slowly  float  away  in  the  still 
air.  A  more  silently  desolate  spot  I  have  never 
seen. 

On  our  return,  we  stop  to  inspect  the  great 
mosque,  built  by  the  favorite  wife  of  Tam- 
erlane, Bibi  Khanyan,  daughter  of  the  Em- 
peror of  China — a  vast  jumble  of  gigantic  and 
ruined  walls  and  arches,  so  ruinous  that  it  can 
no  longer  be  used  by  the  faithful  in  prayer. 
Here  she  was  buried,  and  here  protected  by  a 
huge  serpent,  said  to  exist  to  this  very  day. 
Certain  it  is,  that  when  her  tomb  was  violated 
by  those  who  could  not  conceive  what  use  a 
dead  woman  had  with  such  vast  stores  of  jewels, 
this  serpent  waited  until  the  robbers  were  la- 
dened  with  the  precious  things,  and  then  slew 
the  whole  band.  There  they  were  found  next 
day,  and  none  could  be  induced  to  restore  the 
jewels,  until  one  old  man  entered  and  performed 
the  sacred  work  ;  but  when  he  would  have  come 
forth,   swiftly  fell  the  stone  portal  and   fastened 


c 


1 5  6  Trans-  Caspia  : 

him  down  forever.  The  devotion  of  the  serpent 
was  because  of  the  kindness  it  had  received  from 
the  empress  during  her  Hfe ;  and  "  kindness"  to- 
day will  reap  as  great  a  reward,  though  it  may 
take  another  form.  Perhaps,  however,  it  was  sim- 
ply a  small  act  of  atonement  toward  the  human 
race  from  the  descendants  of  that  other  serpent 
in  another  eastern  garden  famous  in  history. 

The  legends  in  these  eastern  cities  remain 
unchanged  and  unchangeable  and  are  told  to 
the  traveler  of  to-day  as  they  were  told  to 
Schuyler  in  '^^,  and  to  all  those  who  came 
before  him  to  this  beautiful  city  of  Samarkand. 
This  seems  a  day  of  graves,  but  up  to  this 
present  moment  they  have  all  been  such  old, 
old  graves  that  they  have  excited  no  feeling 
save  curiosity.  Now,  however,  it  is  to  be 
somewhat  different.  As  I  reach  the  hotel,  I 
meet  Madam  Metzler  and  a  "  friend "  coming 
out,  and  am  invited  by  Madam  to  go  with  them 
to  the  Russian  graveyard — why  not  ? — so  I  ac- 
cept and  am  shortly  following  that  worthy 
creature  through  the  paths  of  one  of  those 
hideous     "  Gottes     acres"     only     to     be     found 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         157 

amongst  those  of  the  Romish  or  Greek  faiths, 
a  vast  jumble  of  crazy  iron  crosses  ladened 
with  wreaths  of  immortelles.  Madam  bears  a 
watering-pot  and  a  rake  and  comes  to  give 
the  sleeping  "Monsieur"  his  weekly  cleaning- 
up.  The  air  of  Turkistan  did  not  agree  with 
"Monsieur,"  and  he  soon  passed  to  his  rest, 
and  was,  so  the  "friend"  tells  me,  "buried 
while  he  was  'oty  The  friend  acquired  his 
knowledge  of  our  tongue  down  near  the  Tower 
of  London,  where  h's  are  considered  quite  su- 
perfluous— indeed,  quite  a  matter  of  affectation. 
While  Madam  rakes  and  waters,  the  "  friend" 
takes  me  to  the  wall  of  the  sacred  inclosure, 
beyond  which  the  hills  fall  suddenly  away  and 
then  rise  again  in  billowy  waves,  bearing  on 
their  crests  the  fantastic  eastern  city,  and 
rolling  onward  until  they  break  against  the 
base  of  the  mighty  mountains.  It  is  not, 
however,  this  panorama  that  I  am  called  to 
inspect,  but  some  thousands  of  mounds  just 
before  me  and  without  the  wall  ;  many  are  well 
cared  for,  but  most  are  sunken  and  fallen  in, 
while    here    and    there    a    crazy,    tipsy-looking, 


1 5  8  Tra7is-  Caspia  : 

wooden  cross  makes  it  all  only  the  more  hideous 
— "  Cholera."  Each  and  all  of  the  thousands 
there  have  bowed  before  that  terrible  specter 
whose  shadow  seems  to  hover  forever  over 
this    fair   valley    of   the    Zarafshan. 

Russia  is  endeavoring  to  destroy  Samarkand's 
reputation  as  being  the  birth  and  eternal  abiding 
place  of  the  scourge.  She  insists  that  the  cis- 
terns, which  are  the  great  source  of  that  terrible 
scourge,  shall  be  cleaned  every  few  years,  in- 
stead   of  once    in    three    hundred  years. 

Our  stay  in  Samarkand  draws  to  a  close,  and 
I  can  not  depart  without  a  word  more  for 
Madam  Metzler  and  her  very  comfortable  hotel 
of  the  same  name.  Madam  is  French,  as  I 
have  remarked,  and  has  brought  to  this  oasis 
in  the  desert  many  of  those  charming  French 
ways  that  one  remembers  in  the  little  hotel  at 
Blois,  where  the  pet  magpie  had  no  tail.  You 
know  the  place.  The  Madam  there  had  a 
daughter ;  the  Madam  here  has  none,  and  so 
we  are  in  a  measure  all  her  children.  We  are 
served  with  recollections  of  Paris,  both  in  food 
and    otherwise,    out    under  the   bower  of   trees, 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         1 59 

where  cherries  nod  over  us  and  white  mulberries 
drop  on  our  plates.  Occasionally  a  pet  hen 
comes  clucking  around,  followed  by  her  brood 
oi  chicks ;  often  she  mounts  a  chair,  and 
from  thence  to  the  table,  to  see  that  we  are 
not  more  favored  than  herself.  We  are  not, 
for  she  roosts  in  Madam's  room ;  while,  I 
assure  you,  we  have  a  suite  of  apartments  at 
the  other  end  of  the  house,  which  spreads  in 
a  rambling  sort  of  a  way,  here,  there,  and 
every-where  all  over  the  garden,  inclosed  by  its 
high  walls.  My  windows  open  onto  the  street, 
and  as  they  stand  wide  open  day  and  night,  I 
am  often  awakened  by  beggars,  and  sometimes 
by  a  stray  donkey,  who  thrusts  his  head  therein. 
It  is,  perhaps,  useless  to  say  that  I  am  awakened 
by  the  latter,  if  he  speaks  at  all.  Notwithstand- 
ing this  Eden,  I  have  not  at  all  times  been  good- 
humored.  Confession  is  good  for  the  soul. 
Last  night,  as  on  many  nights  before,  the  soda 
water,  which  one  must  drink,  was  bad,  and  I 
told  Madam  so  plainly.  Madam  was  very 
'' desole''  but  that  did  not  help  the  soda.  Still, 
I  have  no  doubt  that,  on  many  a  hot  day  in  the 


i6o 


Trans-  Caspia  : 


farther  mountains,  we  shall  look  back  to  Madam 
and  her  hotel  with  longing  and  regret,  as  on 
many  days  in  the  many  months  of  the  years 
to  come  we  shall  remember  it  and  her  with 
pleasure. 


Madam  was  '  Desole.'  " 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.         1 6 1 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

DID  I  say  something  in  my  notes  of  yester- 
day about  Rachmed  having  arrived  ?  Did 
I  not  bid  a  touching  farewell  to  Samarkand, 
to  Madam  mine  hostess,  to  the  native  baby, 
to  the  unnatural  cats  in  the  court-yard  ?  Did 
I  not  announce  that,  by  that  hour  of  the  next 
day,  we  would  be  far  away  ?  If  so,  1  entirely 
forgot  that  we  were  still  within  the  Russian 
possessions.  I  entirely  lailed  to  understand 
Madam's  peculiar  smile,  or  the  fact  that  at 
midnight  she  had  lailed  to  present  her  account ; 
only  smiling  a  little  more  broadly  and  shrugging 
her  shoulders  upon  hearing  that  we  must  tarry 
another  day,  because  "there  are  no  horses  to 
be  had  for  the  tarantass."  The  mail  moves 
to-day,  and  there  are  officers  en  route  to 
Tashkend  ;  so  we  must  wait  until  to-morrow. 
By  paying  in  advance,  we  are  comparatively 
sure    that   we    will    get    horses — unless — unless. 


1 6  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

How  very  tired  one  becomes  with  all  this  delay, 
how  impatient  with  this  policy  of  constant  sup- 
pression !  Some  time  since,  I  wrote  to  a  friend 
in  London  to  send  me  two  small  American  flags. 
He  promptly  did  so,  but  they  have  never  reached 
me,  and  I  doubt  if  they  ever  do.  None  of  my 
newspapers  have  come  to  hand,  though  I  know 
that  four  or  five  each  week  are  sent  out  from 
home.  I  do  not  think  that  they  tam.per  with  my 
letters,*  although  I  was  assured  that  one  I  sent 
out  yesterday  with  a  trunk  key  inclosed  would 
never  pass  the  limits  of  the  land.  "  Yes  "  is  the 
natural  reply  of  the  people  of  most  nations 
to  questions  put  to  them,  perhaps  because  it 
is  a  more  pleasant  word  than  '-  No  ;"  but  with 
the  Russians,  you  are  almost  certain  to  receive 
the  latter  answer  to  any  and  all  requests,  though, 
after  much  argument,  you  may  succeed  in 
having  it  changed  to  the  affirmative.  This 
certainly  comes  from  the  fact  that  each  rank 
is  afraid  of  doing  something  which  may  offend 
the    one    just    above     it,    and    all    are    mortally 

*  I  have  since  discovered  that  something  Uke  one  dozen  letters 
were  "  suppressed." 


TJic  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 6 


J 


afraid  of  the  all-powerful  Czar.  He,  and  he 
alone,  has  the  right  to  think  and  act.  All  the 
people  are  mere  automatons,  to  be  worked  by 
a  wire  as  he  directs,  or,  rather,  as  those  holding 
high  offices  under  him  may  direct.  He  himself 
is  too  exalted,  too  far  removed,  to  ever  know 
very  much  about  his  people. 

It  turned  out  just  as  I  feared  in  regard  to 
Abbas.  Of  course,  we  were  obliged  to  pay  a 
CTuide  of  Rachmed's  standinof  much  more  than 
we  did  Abbas ;  and  from  the  moment  the 
contract  w^as  signed  with  the  former  for  sixty- 
five  dollars  per  month.  Abbas,  whose  wages 
were  only  twenty  dollars  for  the  same  period, 
but  were  all  he  demanded  or  has  ever  received 
from  any  one,  began  to  get  restive.  We  paid 
no  attention  to  the  numerous  hints  he  dropped, 
for  if  a  guide  finds  that  you  can  be  influenced 
in  that  way,  farewell  to  your  peace.  The 
climax  came  on  the  night  before  we  left  Samar- 
kand. It  was  a  high  festival  with  the  Russians, 
and  Abbas,  who,  "  for  the  sake  of  business," 
has  been  baptized  into  the  Christian  faith,  took 
the  opportunity  to   celebrate   it,   with  the  result 


1 64  Titans-  Caspia  : 

that,  when  he  came  in,  after  having  absented 
himself  from  his  post  for  eight  hours,  he  was 
loaded  with  whiskey  or  beer ;  not  absolutely 
drunk — he  could  have  been  put  to  bed  had  he 
been  that — but  quarrelsome  in  the  extreme  and 
very  impertinent.  The  next  morning,  after  the 
tarantass  was  packed  and  we  were  about  to 
start  for  Tashkend,  he  informed  us  that:  "We 
speak  cross  to  him.  Pay  him  little  money.  He 
no  go."  So  we  drove  off  without  him.  Of 
course,  under  the  circumstances,  he  received 
no  wages,  and  had  to  pay  his  way  home.  He 
must  have  greatly  changed  since  Mr.  Littledale 
employed  him.  His  bills  were  always  larger 
than  ours,  and  we  have  since  discovered  that 
he  was  not  exactly  honest.  When  a  servant 
consumes  five  bottles  of  beer  in  an  afternoon,  as 
he  did,  his  usefulness  is  over.  We  were  sorry 
on  many  accounts,  especially  as  he  was  a  handy  \ 
fellow,  and,  more  weighty  still,  because  Rach- 
med  speaks  but  little  that  we  can  understand. 
We  were  also  sorry  to  write  to  the  patrons 
of  Abbas,  Colonel  Stewart,  consul  at  Odessa, 
and    Mr.   Littledale,   as  we    did ;    but   it   is    best 


1 66  Trans-  Caspia  : 

such  failings  should  be  known.  Had  it  occurred 
in  the  mountains,  we  should  have  been  in  a 
sorry  fix,  expecially  if  he  had  been  the  only 
guide. 

We  started  at  last,  with  a  merry  jingle  of 
bells  and  plunging  of  horses,  and  were  certainly 
most  uncomfortable  until  we  had  almost  re- 
packed the  tarantass ;  and  I  fear  we  saw  little 
of  the  endless  gardens  surrounding  Samarkand, 
so  busy  were  we.  Things  were  no  more  than 
settled  before  we  reached  the  river,  and  were 
obliged  to  dump  all,  including  ourselves,  into 
a  great  two-wheeled  cart,  called  an  "  arba," 
which  is  the  only  thing  that  will  carry  one 
dry-shod  over  the  uncertain  channels  of  the 
stream.  And  so  we  crossed  the  Zarafshan ; 
not,  however,  without  getting  our  provisions 
well  soaked.  B.  nearly  fainted  when  he  saw 
the   bread    bag    sailing    away    down    stream. 

The  sole  mode  of  communication  between 
Samarkand  and  Tashkend,*  which  is  the  military 
capital  here,  is  by  tarantass,  over  very  rough 
roads,    where    one    must    carry   one's   own    food 

*  "  City  of  stone." 


The  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  16^ 

or  starve.  Absolutely  nothing  is  obtainable 
save  tea,  and  now  and  then  eggs,  and  those 
only  at  the  post  stations,  which  are  wretchedly 
dirty  places.  The  tarantass  is  a  cumbersome, 
box-like  carriage,  with  a  top  like  a  victoria,  and 
with  no  springs  ;  but  is  the  only  vehicle  which 


And  So  We  Crossed  the  Zarafshan. 

can  survive  these  roads.  In  it  one  places  all 
the  rugs  and  mats  he  can  find  to  brace  himself 
with.  Strong  men  can  stand  the  motion,  but  I 
felt  the  most  intense  pity  for  one  poor  woman 
who  passed  us.  She  was  going  to  Moscow,  and 
had  her  two  little  children  with  her.  The  heat 
and    glare    were    intense,   while   clouds    of   dust 


1 68  Trans-  Caspia  : 

rendered  all  things  invisible.  She  looked  and 
was,  no  doubt,  intensely  wretched,  and  I  do  not 
see  how  she  endured  it  at  all.  I  had  expected 
a  wretched  night — one  must  travel  day  and 
night,  as  there  are  no  stopping  places — but, 
much  to  my  surprise,  slept  soundly  and  well. 
Hereafter,  we  shall  travel  as  much  by  night 
as  possible.  The  air  becomes  cool  and  the 
dust  is  much  less,  while  the  night  effects  on  the 
steppes  of  Asia  are  very  weird  and  fantastic. 
The  plain  stretches  away  to  the  northward, 
absolutely  flat ;  neither  mound,  nor  bush,  nor 
rock  breaks  the  dead  level.  The  skeleton  of 
a  camel  becomes  a  prominent  object,  and 
great  numbers  of  turtles  cross  the  roadway  in 
stately  procession.  The  moon  was  at  its  full 
as  we  passed  along  last  night,  and  ever  and 
anon  long  trains  of  camels,  inward  bound  from 
Thibet  and  China,  were  sharply  silhouetted 
upon  its  disk.  The  place  was  one  where 
wolves  should  abound,  and  it  would  not  have 
surprised  me  to  have  heard  their  mournful  cry 
break  the  dead  silence  at  any  moment. 

The    following    day.    June    19th,    we     crossed 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai'.         1 69 

the  Sira  Daria.  That  river  seemed  weary  with 
the  weight  of  mud  with  which  its  waters  were 
ladened,  weary  with  the  prospect  of  its  long 
journey   through    the    deserts.      At    9    p.   m,    of 


Thk   Famished  Stkppk. 

our  second  day,  we  reached  Tashkend,  forty 
hours  out,  which  is  about  as  fast  as  the  journey 
(three  hundred  versts)  can  be  done  in.  We 
were  not  delayed  at  all.  Her  streets,  in  the 
Russian  town,  are  very  wide,  and  are  bordered 
by  many  rows  of  trees.     One  can  see  even  in 


1 70  Trans-  Caspia  : 

the  moonlio-ht  that  her  mansions  are  more 
pretentious  than  those  of  Samarkand,  but  the 
brooks  do  not  go  singing  along  as  in  the  city 
of  Tamerlane. 

June  2 1  St. 
Hot,  hot !  The  sun  should  turn  his  back  on 
us  now,  and  we  trust  he  will  not  delay  that 
ceremony.  We  get  more  than  we  desire  of 
his  company  in  Central  /\sia,  and  long  often 
for  his  veiled  face,  so  delightful  in  England. 
Tashkend  is  much  like  Samarkand — the  Russian 
portion,  I  mean — but  on  an  enlarged  scale.  As 
its  elevation  is  not  so  great,  it  does  not  possess 
that  deo-ree  of  freshness  so  deligrhtful  in  the 
smaller  city,  nor  does  it  possess  in  its  Sart 
town  any  such  objects  of  interest.  Extensive 
bazaars  abound,  much  like  all  other  bazaars 
that  one  sees,  and  become  very  monotonous 
in  the  long  run.  Nature  meant  all  this  for  a 
desert,  and  a  desert  it  was  until  the  Russians, 
by  their  extensive  irrigations,  converted  it  into 
a  bower ;  but  withal  you  see  that  is  a  bower 
perforce,  and  would  much  rather  return  to  its 
primitive    condition.      It    remains    as    it    now    is 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         i  7 1 


under  protest,  and  were  Russia  to  relax  her 
work  for  one  year,  desolation  and  blight  would 
settle  over  all,  its  river  being  small  and  with 
no  such  volume  of  water  as  the  Zarafshan. 

I   have  observed  that  amono-  the  native  cafes 
there  is  much-  greater  cleanliness  than  in  Egypt 


i..a:-'i^-4jy  ..iil^  *-■ 


Tashkend. 

or  Turkey.  Rich  rugs  cover  clean  floors,  and 
the  attendants  seem  to  have  washed  during 
the  present  century.  Still  one  is  never  tempted 
to  eat  or  drink  what  they  offer.  Pass  them  at 
night,  and  you  will  see  an  Asiatic  "  Yosha- 
warra  " — numbers  of  girls  strewn  around  every- 
where ;    and   I   defy  the  most   hardened  rout  to 


172  Trans-  Caspia  : 

go  there  and  not  feel  a  blush  of  indignation  as 
he  sees  little  girls  of  seven  and  eight  years 
offered  as  tempting  baits  by  their  infamous 
masters.  I  also  learn  that  sodomy  is  more 
prevalent  in  Turkistan  than  in  any  other  por- 
tion of  the  world.  These  Sarts  are  not  a 
religious  people ;  hence  one  misses  that  most 
characteristic  feature  of  oriental  life — the  Muez- 
zin calling  at  all  hours  to  prayer.  "  God  is 
great"  rarely  echoes  on  the  air  here.  No 
stately  figures  on  gorgeous  prayer  rugs  bow 
and  murmur  in  the  direction  of  Mecca.  Not 
only  in  this,  but  in  many  other  points,  there  is 
much  of  the  charm  of  the  Orient  wanting.  It 
strikes  me,  however,  that  the  upper  classes  are 
superior  to  those  in  Turkey  and  Egypt.  They 
are  cleaner  and  finer  looking,  and  I  have  met 
several  to  whom  the  title  of  gentleman  could 
be  applied.  I  do  not  remember  any  Turk  upon 
whom   I   would   be  willing  to  bestow  it. 

Last  night  we  dined  with  Governor-General 
Baron  Wrevfsky,  at  Government  House,  or, 
rather,  we  dined  outside  the  house,  as  the  table 
was  set  in  the  gardens,   which  have  been  culti- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  i  ']'^ 

vated  to  a  hio-h  state  around  the  one-storied, 
spreading  mansion.  One  of  the  ladies  spoke 
excellent  English,  affording  me  a  great  treat, 
as,  aside  from  B.,  I  have  not  heard  my  own 
tongue  in  weeks.  You  must  know  French  when 
you  visit  this  portion  of  the  Far  East,  and  even 
that  language  is  of  small  use.  There  is  a  good 
deal  of  it  here,  because  of  the  presence  of  the 
army,  but  in  Samarkand  there  were  but  three 
persons  who  could  speak  it.  So  Russian,  in 
Turkistan,  you  must  use  if  you  do  not  know 
Sart  or  Persian.  To  my  mind,  there  is  nothing 
I  to  justify  the  traveler  in  coming  to  Tashkend. 
There  is  absolutely  nothing  worth  seeing. 


1 74  Trans-  Caspia . 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

June   22d. 

HAVING  ordered  horses  for  our  tarantass 
at  lo  p.  M.,  they  of  course  do  not  come, 
and  we  send  after  them,  finally  getting  off  at 
11:30;  but,  as  it  is  glorious  moonlight,  we  do 
not  mind  the  delay.  Started  at  last,  we  rattle 
away  at  a  lively  pace,  but  our  bells  are  all  tied 
until  we  quit  the  town,  from  which  we  only 
proceed  one  station  when  we  are  stopped  "  until 
seven  in  the  morning,"  by  finding  that  two  other 
vehicles  have  used  all  the  horses.  These  posts 
are  only  furnished  with  enough  animals  for 
three  tarantasses,  and  the  waits  on  one's  jour- 
ney are  sometimes  most  aggravating.  There  is 
nothing  for  it  but  to  go  to  sleep,  in  the  ma- 
chine, of  course,  and  there,  in  the  middle  of 
the  high-road,  we  pass  the  night. 

The  next  day  is  a  very  successful  one,  as 
tarantass  rides  go.  We  are  not  delayed  at  the 
posts,  the  horses  make  rapid  time,  and  toward 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         175 

sunset,  after  an  intensely  hot  day,  we  approach 
Kojend.  Many  and  gorgeous  are  the  birds, 
but  all  songless ;  and  I  have  been  greatly  in- 
terested in  the  animal  life  of  the  desert ;  there 
was  one  strange  creature — small,  not  more  than 
three  inches  long — that  crept  out  of  the  blazing 
rocks  and  stared  at  us.  I  could  not  make  out 
what  it  was,  but  it  looked  like  one  of  Dores 
distorted  shapes  from  Dante's  "Inferno" — like 
the  skeleton  of  a  lost  soul.  Was  that  the  road 
to  hell,   I   wonder ! 

As  we  round  the  shoulder  of  a  low  mountain 
that  has  been  in  front  of  us  all  day,  the  en- 
tire range  of  the  Alai  spreads  before  us  in 
magnificent  panorama.  Below,  a  green  belt  of 
trees  denotes  the  presence  of  water — the  Sira 
Daria ;  above,  rise  the  yellow  cliffs  of  the 
lower  mountains ;  while  far  into  the  sky  soars 
the  great  snowy  range,  which  we  shall  soon 
cross.  There  are  several  peaks  in  sight,  rang- 
ing from  eighteen  to  twenty  thousand  feet. 
The  effect  is  very  fine.  The  sun  goes  down 
in  a  sullen  glow  of  crimson,  which  gradually 
changes  to  purple,  and  then  suddenly  to  night. 


I  'j6  Trans-  Caspia  : 

Twilight,  there  is  none  to  speak  of.  We  pass 
Kojend  without  stopping,  save  for  a  change  of 
horses  and  tea,  and  a  confab  with  an  old  woman 
and  her  sons  from  Andijan,  whose  invitation  to 
visit  we  shall  scarce  accept.  Then  all  night 
forward,  through  clouds  of  dust,  until  it  is 
impossible  to  do  aught  save  sit  up  and  gasp. 
The  following  day  brings  our  first  real  expe- 
rience of  post  delays,  and  from  eight  to  twelve 
we  await  the  passage  of  the  mails,  and  at  four 
are  started  again,  to  be  stopped  within  ten  versts 
of  Kokand,  and  informed  that  six  hours  will  be 
our  wait  this  time.  It  is  finally  cut  down  to 
three,  so  that  at  nine  we  rattle  into  Kokand, 
very  weary,  dirty  men,  having  had  nothing  to 
eat  worth  mentioning  for  two  days.  Any  voice 
that  sounds  a  greeting  is  most  welcome  to  one 
under  such  circumstances,  and  at  Kokand  we 
are  saluted  by  a  dapper  little  merchant  from 
Moscow,  who  crossed  the  Caspian  on  our  ship. 
He  had  passed  our  tarantass,  and  had  ordered 
rooms  reserved  for  us  at  the  only  hotel  in  the 
place — Hotel  del  Europe.  These  he  showed 
us  with  a  flourish,   and  we  accepted  with    deep 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  177 

gratitude.  They  were  hot  and  smelt  of  paint ; 
were  small  and  near  the  kitchen,  or,  rather,  the 
porch,  where  the  waiter  washed  all  things  in 
one  pail,  not  troubling  himself  to  change  the 
water  too  often.  When  one  has  lived  on  liquid 
food  for  two  days,  principally  tea,  they  fully 
appreciate  a  beefsteak  and  a  bottle  of  beer. 
They  also  appreciate  a  place,  be  it  bed  or 
board,  which,  unlike  the  tarantass,  will  allow 
them  to  stretch  out  at  full  length.  I  slept 
soundly  the  sleep  of  utter  weariness,  notwith- 
standing the  charms  of  the  female  orchestra, 
whose  discords  continued  far  into  the  night, 
finally  driving  the  dapper  little  merchant  to 
desperation  and  the  police  station  for  relief. 
Thereafter  silence  reigned  supreme  over  the 
far  eastern  and  very  ancient  city  of  the  Khans 
of  Kokand. 

The  usual  Russian  town  of  broad  avenues, 
lined  with  either  silver-leaf  or  Lombardy  poplars. 
The  usual  Sart  town,  all  a  jumble  of  crooked 
streets,  lined  by  mud  houses  and  walls  ;  in  the 
heart  of  the  whole  the  usual  "  Medresse" 
mosque,     and     bazaar ;     the     usual     picturesque 


178  Trans- Caspia  : 

crowds  of  dressed  and  undressed,  most  of  the 
latter  being  boys.  But  after  all,  having  seen 
Bokhara  and  Samarkand,  you  have  seen  all ; 
and  I  should  strongly  protest  against  any  one, 
unless  they  be  bound  for  the  Pamirs,  subjecting 
themselves  to  that  torture  called  a  tarantass  in 
order  to  see  more  of  Turkistan.*  Tashkend  in 
no  degree  will  pay  you  for  the  ride,  and  much 
less  will  Kokand,  though  it  does  possess  the 
front  and  a  few  rooms  (now  used  as  a  church) 
of  the  ancient  palace  of  the  Khan.  A  railroad 
has  been  projected,  and  will,  I  am  told,  be 
completed  to  Andijan  within  two  years.  Then 
the  tarantass  in  these  parts  will  be  as  a  night- 
mare departed — something  with  which  to  scare 
prisoners  and  children   into  obedience. 

The  heat  at  Kokand  was  intense,  and  we  de- 
cided to  start  for  Marghilan  at  4  p.  m.  and  travel 
until  midnight,  by  which  time  we  should  reach 
the  latter  town,  our  last  stopping  place  before 
Osh.  It  is  blazing-  hot  as  we  start  out,  and  the 
wind,  beingf  with  us,  blows  heated  blasts  down 
our  backs    and    drowns    us    in   dust.      Our  pace 

*  I  had  not  jet  seen  the  grand  valley  of  the  Alai. 


1 80  Tra?is-  Caspia  : 

is  more  rapid  than  heretofore.  No  rocks  or 
ruts  are  avoided,  and  it  is  well  the  machine  was 
repaired  at  Kokand.  However,  one  pardons 
roughness  here  if  it  means  progress ;  and  it 
does  mean  progress  until  we  roil  into  the  last 
post,  thirty  versts  from  Marghilan,  and  are  met 
with  the  news :  "No  horses  until  2  f.  m.  to- 
morrow." We  are  not  entirely  unprepared  for 
this,  having  encountered  the  mails,  westward 
bound,  just  outside  the  village,  and  knowing 
that  they  use  up  the  horses.  There  is  nothing 
to  be  done  save  to  pass  the  night  as  best  we 
may,  which  I  do  in  the  tarantass,  and  B.  on 
the  door-step  of  the  post-house. 

Three  a.  m.  brings  in  two  officers,  who,  pos- 
sessing a  "podorozhnaya,"  take  our  horses, 
and  our  departure  is  put  off  four  hours  more. 
1  confess  I  lose  patience.  The  whole  army  and 
their  relations  are  provided  with  these  passes, 
which  enable  them  to  delay  every  one  else. 
We  are  but  fifteen  miles  from  our  destination, 
yet  if  one  of  us  were  ill  we  could  do  nothing 
but  wait.  Fact  is,  B.  is  not  well,  and  -should 
reach  a  place  where  he  can  be  quiet.      But  no  ; 


The  Sealed  Proviiices  of  the  Czai'.         1 8 1 

wait  we  must.  I  candidly  confess  that  my  ex- 
perience up  to  date  is,  that  the  entire  service 
of  Russia's  government  toward  strangers  is 
"  Hp  "  service  only.  She  will  promise  any  thing, 
while  she  grants  you  nothing,  nor  renders  you 
one  solitary  real  service.  There  has  been  but 
one  man  so  far  in  the  whole  land,  Captain 
Borschefsky,  at  Samarkand,  who  has  really 
done  any  thing  for  us.  If  Russia  did  not  want 
us  to  come,  she  should  have  said  so  at  St. 
Petersburg,  and  ended  the  matter  there.  You 
have  seen  what  trouble  we  have  had  with  her 
numerous  promises,  and  her  non-fulfillment 
thereof;  and  though  we  have  presented  per- 
sonal letters  from  high  places  to  the  governor 
of  Samarkand  and  the  governor-general  at 
Tashkend,  they  have  done  absolutely  nothing 
to  help  us  onward.  To  be  sure,  the  latter 
asked  us  to  dinner ;  but  I  feel  that,  with  the 
breath  of  the  outside  world  which  we  brought 
into  the  dead  monotony  of  that  household,  we 
amply  repaid  him  for  his  courtesy.  The  bows, 
smiles,  and  assurances  of  mutual  love  and 
esteem,     and     of    undying    remembrance,    were 


1 82  Trans- Caspia  : 

something  wearying  in  length  and  strength ; 
but  there  it  ended — Hp  service,  all  of  it.  When 
we  suggested  a  "  podorozhnaya "  to  help  us 
onward  over  the  five  hundred  miles  of  taran- 
tassing,  we  were  politely  ignored.  All  our 
"personal  introductions,"  all  our  ignorance  of 
the  language  and  strangeness  to  its  customs, 
all  our  shortness  of  time,  helped  us  not  one 
iota.  We  two  are  the  only  strangers  in  the 
land,  yet  are  refused  that  which  is  granted  to 
every  offspring  or  relation  of  every  petty  officer. 
So  we  wait  hours  and  days  for  horses,  while 
they  crowd  us  down  and  back.  I  do  not 
believe  this  would  occur  under  any  other  gov- 
ernment in  the  world.  As  I  remarked  in  the 
beginning  of  this  tirade,  if  she  did  not  wish 
us  to  come,  she  should  have  been  decided  in 
the  matter  ;  but  having  granted  permission,  and 
knowing  the  hardships  of  the  journey,  she 
should  have  done  what  she  could,  and  it  need 
be  but  little,  to  help  us  onward.  Of  course, 
these  passes  are,  in  one  sense,  like  passes  on 
a  railroad  :  the  system  could  be  easily  overdone, 
were   there   many   travelers ;    but   there   are   not 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 83 

a  half  a  dozen  in  twelve  months.  Russia  is 
so  desirous  to  be  well  written  and  spoken  of 
that  a  little  real  assistance  in  such  a  manner 
would  gain  her  much.  It  is  certainly  galling 
for  two  men,  whose  time  is  limited  for  the 
Pamir  tour,  to  be  kept  waiting  an  indefinite 
length  of  time  at  a  wretched  post  station,  while 
the  nurses  and  children  of  the  officers,  on  the 
strength  of  their  passes,  use  up  the  horses 
between  the  points  on  the  road  in  picnic  jaunts 
and  in  calling  tours  between  the  posts.  These 
"  podorozhnayas "  simply  give  one  the  right  to 
hire  horses  ahead  of  the  ordinary  traveler ;  in 
other  words,  if  four  or  five  parties  reach  a  post 
together,  those  holding  such  passes  get  their 
horses  first.  The  granting  of  them  does  not 
entail  any  moneyed  loss  to  the  government. 

As  we  approach  Marghilan,  soldiers  come 
out  and  present  arms,  and  before  we  pass 
down  one  block,  a  mounted  policeman  dashes 
ahead  of  us  toward  the  hotel.  Does  it  mean 
Siberia  or  an  invitation  to  dinner?  It  seems 
he  is  an  aide-de-camp  to  the  governor,  who 
has    engaged   rooms   for   us    at    the    hotel.     As 


1 84  Trans-  Caspia  : 

we   are   the   only   guests   therein,   the   attention, 
though  poHte,  was  scarcely  needed. 

Marghilan  is  a  spot  that  could  have  no  ex- 
istence save  for  the  irrigation.  Stop  that,  and 
the  hot  blasts  from  the  desert  in  which  she  is 
placed  would  burn  her  up  in  a  month's  time. 
Her  streets  resemble  Paris  in  their  width  and 
magnificent  lengths.  Her  squares,  like  Paris 
also,  are  superb  ;  but  when  one  comes  to  look 
for  the  houses,  that  resemblance  ceases.  If 
one  walks  around,  by  close  inspection  he  may 
perhaps  find  a  house  or  two,  but  he  must  look 
carefully.  It  is  very  hot  here ;  each  window 
is  provided  with  a  heavy  felt  shutter  to  keep 
out  light  and  heat ;  and  my  thermometer  rises, 
in  the  sun,  to  one  hundred  and  thirty  degrees, 
and  then  goes  out  of  business.  We  shall  press 
on  to  Osh,  where  it  should  be  cooler,  as  that 
point  stands  at  an  elevation  of  some  four  thou- 
sand feet. 

We  certainly  can  not  but  feel  pleased  and 
very  grateful  for  the  delightful  hospitality  that 
has  greeted  us  here  at  the  house  of  Marghilan's 
governor.     But   for  the    fact   that    his    house  is 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  185 

full  of  visitors  already,  he  would  have  carried 
us  there  bag  and  baggage ;  and  as  it  is, 
we  are  there  most  of  the  time,  and  always 
for  dinner.  hx  our  last  feast — for  all  good 
meals  are-  feasts  to  travelers  in  this  eastern 
land — we  met  the  conqueror  and  hero  of  the 
Pamir  region,  Jorenoff.  He  spoke,  unfortu- 
nately, nothing  save  Russian,  so  it  was  but 
"a  glance  of  the  eye."  French,  German,  and 
also  Enoflish,  for  a  wonder,  flowed  around  us  in 
ceaseless  chatter.  One  Russian  countess  asked 
me  whether  she  would  meet  with  such  hospi- 
tality were  she  to  come  as  a  stranger  to  our 
land.  That  she  would  not,  even  were  she  prop- 
erly introduced,  I  knew  well ;  but  I  could  not 
do  otherwise  than  assure  her  to  the  contrary. 
However,  there  is  much  to  be  said  in  our  de- 
fense. All  who  come  here,  and  they  do  not 
amount  to  more  than  half  a  dozen  a  year,  are 
not  only  fully  vouched  for,  and  heralded  weeks 
in  advance,  but  are  also  welcomed  for  the 
breath  of  the  outside  world  which  they  bring 
with  them  to  these  lonely  towns ;  while  to 
our    open    doors    come     so     many     thousands, 


1 86  Trans-  Caspia . 

even  from  Russia,  that  to  welcome  each  and 
all  would  pauperize  the  land  in  short  order. 
Also,  we  have  had  the  misfortune  to  be  glo- 
riously fooled  by  several  Russian  adventuresses  ; 
hence,  are  perhaps  over  cautious.  Here  at 
Marghilan  comes  the  news  of  President  Carnot's 
barbarous  murder  at   Lyons. 

The  Russians  have  a  quaint  and  pleasant 
custom  of  shaking  hands  with  their  host  and 
hostess  as  they  rise  from  the  dinner  table — a 
delicate  acknowledgment  of  their  hospitality.  I 
do  not,  however,  admire  their  custom  of  run- 
ning all  around  the  room  and  table  during  the 
meal,  and  of  passing  things  over  the  board.  I 
do  not  know  how  it  may  be  in  St.  Petersburg, 
as  my  visits  to  that  city  have  always  been  in 
the  summer,  when  "  society "  was  "  not  at 
home  ;"  but  the  people  we  have  met  with  are, 
I  fancy,  criterions  of  the  nation's  customs,  being 
all  titled,  and  mostly  possessing  high  military 
rank. 

We  spend  but  two  days  in  the  town,  buying 
tents  and  provisions,  which  we  are  told  can 
not    be    bought   at   Osh.      Still,   we  confine  our- 


The  Sealed  Pi^ovinces  of  the  Czar.         187 

selves  to  the  smallest  amount,  as  transportation 
in  the  tarantass  is  death  and  destruction  to  all 
things. 

Rachmed  arrives  with  our  luggage  direct  from 


The  MibiRESs  of  the  Post  at  Osh. 

Samarkand,  and  we  go  forward  once  more,  leav- 
ing at  night  to  avoid  the  heat,  and  arriving  at 
Osh  at  II  A.  M.  There  is  no  hotel  or  place 
to  lay  one's  head,  save  at  the  post-house,  which 
we  take  possession  of,  notwithstanding  the  loud 
protestations     of    the    dainty    landlady    thereof, 


1 88  Trans-  Caspia  : 

who  certainly,  in  addition  to  her  two  hundred 
pounds,  possessed  the  shrillest  voice  I  have 
heard  in  some  time.  I  think,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  Colonel  Grombschefsky's  orders,  she 
would  have  gotten  the  better  of  us,  and  bun- 
dled us  out,  bag  and  baggage,  into  the  street. 
His  orders  changed  her  as  the  sun  drives  away 
clouds,  and  thereafter  she  was  all  smiles,  and 
wept  in  my  arms  at  my  departure. 

"  There  was  music  in  the  howling  of  that  gale." 


The  Sealed  Pi^ovmces  of  the  Czai\  1 89 


CHAPTER    XV. 

OsH,  June  30th. 

THIS  little  hamlet  of  Osh  is  placed  just 
where  the  land  "  quivers  on  the  rise " 
from  plain  to  mountains.  Jagged  peaks  rise 
around  it  in  welcome  variation  from  the  end- 
less steppes  behind  us,  while  the  near  fore- 
ground holds  a  rugged  mass  called  the  "Throne 
of  Solomon."  They  have  a  habit  of  moving 
most  of  the  personages  in  sacred  history  to 
this  land,  which  must  have  been  more  remote 
in  the  days  of  that  monarch's  splendor  than 
it  is  now.  At  all  events,  his  throne  is  here. 
On  it  he  gave  that  celebrated  judgment  about 
the  infants,  though  now  they  can  not  show  you 
even  a  piece  of  either  child.  The  Greek  or 
Roman  Church  would  certainly  be  able  to 
show  most  of  both.  The  horizon  is  bounded 
on  the  southward  by  the  Ali  Mountains,  snow 
crowned     and     rugged,     while     the     south-west 


1 90  Trans-  Caspia  : 

settles  down  into  the  dreary  steppes,  over  which 
we  have  been  travehng  for  a  week. 

Did  I  mention  the  fact  that  horse  hire  is 
not  dear  in  Turkistan  ?  We  paid  nine  kopeks 
a  verst  for  three,  a  kopek  being-  half  a  cent, 
I  have  just  completed  my  bargain  for  the 
journey  to  Kashgar,  four  hundred  versts,  for 
nine  roubles  per  horse.  I  shall  need  six,  so 
that  the  gigantic  sum  of  fifty-four  roubles,  or 
twenty-seven  dollars,  will  be  needed  to  carry 
me  some  three  hundred  miles,  and  over  to  that 
most  western  city  of  China.  I  have  finally 
decided  to  take  that  route  in  preference  to  the 
one  over  the  Pamirs.  B.  wants  to  spend  some 
months  in  hunting,  which  I  do  not  care  for,  and 
it  would  be  stupid  work  for  me  alone  in  camp 
during  his  outings.  So  I  go  via  Kashgar, 
Yarkand,  and  Leh,  to  Srinagar.  I  do  not  fancy 
the  idea  of  a  two  months'  journey  alone,  but  it 
can  not  be  helped. 

The  one  or  two  stores  which  Osh  possesses  we 
about  buy  out.  We  also  secure  two  tents  and 
another  guide.  Rachmed  goes  with  me,  and 
one,   Ham    Rachoul,  with    B.     The   latter   buys 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 9 1 

a  very  excellent  fur-lined  coat  for  twenty-four 
roubles.  All  things  are  cheap  here,  save  such 
as  come  from  the  West.  Colonel  Grombschef- 
sky — governor  of  the  province — is  of  the  utmost 
service  to  us,  and  seems  so  glad  to  be  so  that 
we  almost  forget  that  it  is  all  a  favor  on  his  part, 
and  one  to  which  we  have  no  claim.  He  is  the 
first,  last,  and  only  official  in  the  land  to  render 
us  real  assistance.  He  asks  us  to  dinner  every 
day,  and  we  do  not  miss  any  day,  knowing  that, 
when  once  we  start  southward,  we  shall  all  hope 
abandon  as  far  as  good  food  is  concerned. 

The  governor's  house  stands  high  over  the 
town,  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  gardens,  abound- 
ing in  fruits  and  flowers,  and  fresh  with  the 
running  of  many  waters.  Below  sleeps  the 
little  town,  in  its  bower  of  silver-leafed  poplars. 
Solomon's  Throne,  purple  in  the  setting  sun, 
with  its  rear-ofuard  of  mountains,  stands  in 
eternal  watch  ;  while  away  to  the  westward  and 
northward,  the  steppes  are  fast  thickening  with 
shadows.  We  shall  start  on  the  morrow,  and 
therefore  linger  long  in  this  hospitable  mansion, 
leaving  it  and  its  master  with  many  thanks  and 


192 


Tra7ts-  Caspia 


regrets,   taking  with   us    many  memories    of   its 

cooln( 

heart. 


coolness    and    rest,   and   of   his  warm,   crenerous 


Our  Pack. 


July   ist. 
It  is    10  A.  M.  before  our  "pack"  is  in  starting 
order  and  we  get  under  way  for  the  wilderness. 
I    have    six  horses  in  my  train,   and   B.   nine  in 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         193 

his;  but  I  shall  only  keep  this  lot  until  Kashgar 
be  reached,  a  fortnight  hence,  while  B.  must 
keep  his  until  his  journey  to  Gilghit*  is  an 
accomplished  fact.  We  have  packed  every 
thing  possible  in  boxes  or  thick  bags,  and 
so  have  little  trouble  in  arranging,  and  these 
Sarts  rope  them  to  the  pack-saddles  so  securely 
that  they  arrive  at  our  first  point,  Langar 
(twenty-eight  versts),  in  good  condition.  I 
have  had  cases  in  our  Rocky  Mountains  ruined 
the  first  day  by  carelessness  in  packing.  Lan- 
gar is  nothing  save  a  "  Membashies  "  tomb  and 
a  stream  of  running  water.  The  first,  though 
it  is  picturesque,  with  its  broken  dome  and 
black  plume,  we  might  do  without,  but  not  the 
water.  Only  those  who  have  been  off  in  the 
desert  appreciate  what  a  blessing  water  is  to 
man  and  the  world.  It  means  life.  Here,  at 
all  events,  it  does,  and  to-night  it  takes  the 
shape  of  a  sparkling  brook.  There  is  some 
quarreling  over  the  preparation  of  the  first  din- 
ner, but  we  get  it  at  last.  Soup,  canned  salmon, 
tea,  and  rice  make  us  happy  and  sleepy,  and  I 
do    not    mind    the    fact   that  my  camp  bed  has 

*  The  northern  outpost  of  Great  Britain  in  Cashmere. 


1 94  Trans-  Caspia  : 

an  iron  rod  that  before  day  nearly  breaks  my 
back.  How  deliciously  cool  the  air  blows 
through  the  tent !  which,  by  the  way,  is  not  our 
own — they  are  of  canvas,  while  this  is  one  of 
those  great  "  yourts "  of  the  Kirghiz,  a  circular 
structure  of  some  ten  feet  in  diameter  and  as 
many  high.  It  is  not  long  before  silence  settles 
over  our  first  night  in  camp  in  Central  Asia. 

Half-past  four  brings  daylight.  Chattering 
Sarts,  Rachmed  and  Ham  Rachoul  making  the 
fire,  neighing  horses,  etc.,  make  sleep  impossible ; 
and  we  order  in  the  tea  and  boiled  eggs.  Both 
are  delicious,  and  of  the  latter  we  consume  six 
apiece.  It  is  never  well  to  start  ahead  of  your 
camp,  if  you  desire  its  arrival  before  midnight; 
but  once  get  it  under  way,  and  it  will  move 
steadily  forward  all  day.  So  we  wait  and  start 
with  it,  the  result  being  that  we  reach  Gulcha 
about  the  same  time.  En  route,  two  passes 
are  crossed,  one  being  higher  than  Mount 
Washington.  The  views  are  beautiful,  and  ever 
and  anon  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  vast  fields 
of  snow,  still  three  days  away.  The  forty  versts 
to  Gulcha  are  covered  in  about  nine  hours,  and 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         195 

as  we  descend  into  its  valley  we  are  met  by 
a  messenger  from  the  Membashie.*  Colonel 
Grombschefsky  had  warned  him  of  our  coming, 
and  we  find  him  awaiting  us  on  the  further  side 
of  the  rushing  Gulcha  River.  After  a  dignified 
oriental  salute,  he  conducts  us  to  a  yourt  like 
the  one  of  last  night,  whereupon  I  am  ashamed 
to  confess  that  I  stretch  myself  out  and  go  sound 
asleep  in  the  presence  of  his  highness.  But  one 
meets  so  many  highnesses,  and  I  am  so  weary, 
that  nature  takes   matters  into  her  own  hands. 

I  have  sent  Rachmed  into  town  with  my  bed 
to  have  those  rods  cut  out.  It  is  an  ordinary 
camp  bed,  iron  and  folding.  It  will,  of  course, 
weaken  it,  but  I  can  not  sleep  on  it  as  it  is.  Now 
I  shall  have  canvas  tied  over  the  whole.  We 
were  strongly  advised  not  to  sleep  on  the  ground, 
or  we  would  not  have  bothered  about  beds. 

My  first  papers  from  home  of  May  20th 
reached  me  at  Osh  on  the  30th  of  June.  I 
shall  have  no  more  mails  until  Kashgar  be 
reached.  It  is  rarely  in  the  world  of  to-day 
that    one    finds   a   journey  that,   so   far  as  mails 

*  A  chief  amongst  the  Kirghiz. 


1 96  Trans-  Caspia  : 

are  concerned,  burns  their  bridges  behind  them 
for  two  months. 

Let  me  recommend  to  my  men  friends  to 
bring  a  bath-robe  or  so  when  they  follow  in 
my  footsteps.  (Let  me  recommend  to  my  lady 
friends  to  stay  at  home.)  I  really  think  it  is 
more  useful  than  any  thing  else  I  possess.  For 
instance,  to-day,  when  I  wanted  a  dip  in  the 
Gulcha  River,  half  a  mile  off,  it  came  in  most 
handily,  and  the  natives  evidently  considered 
it  a  robe  of  state.  Between  that,  my  yellow 
umbrella,  and  my  spurs,  I  can  see  that  I  stand 
high  in  their  admiration.  However,  it  is  the 
absolute  comfort  of  a  robe  that  I  mention  now. 

We  have  set  Rachmed  and  Ham  Rachoul 
to  making  chicken  soup.  I  fancy  it  will  be 
ready  to-morrow.  Concerning  camp  life  here, 
I  think  that  one  coming  to  these  countries 
should  in  our  own  land  lay  in  a  supply  of 
canned  goods.  They  can  not  be  gotten  in 
Russia,  and  most  of  Europe  seems  prejudiced 
against  them.  What  would  I  not  give  for  some 
canned  fruits — peaches,  pears,  apricots,  etc.? 
Not    jams,    but    some    marmalade.      We    have 


TJie  Sealed  Provi?ices  of  the  Czar.         197 

been  able  to  procure  a  little  canned  salmon  and 
venison,  which  seems  so  ancient  that  we  are 
almost  afraid  to  eat  it,  and  I  think  with  envy  of 
all  in  our  stores  at  home.  So  far,  except  at 
some  post  stations,  we  have  always  been  able 
to  procure  eggs  and  milk,  which,  with  tea,  will 
keep  a  man  going,  though  the  desire  for  meat 
will  be  unpleasantly  strong  at  times ;  but  one 
must  become  accustomed  to  go  without  that. 
I  fancy,  as  I  go  forward,  I  shall  have  but  little 
thereof,  save  in  the  cities,  and  I  fear  Rachmed 
could  not  cook  it  if  I  had  it. 

I  can  not  but  compare  the  industry  and 
promptness  of  these  guides  and  packers  with 
those  in  our  western  mountains.  These  move 
quickly  and  do  our  bidding  as  ordered. 
There  is  no  delay  in  packing  and  starting; 
while  with  our  western  "gentlemen,"  who  are 
at  all  times  better  than  their  employers,  things 
are  far  different.  I  shall  not  forget  my  last 
visit  to  our  wilderness.  The  head  guide, 
"Handsome  Jack,"  posed  most  charmingly 
against  "the  rising  moon,  while  "Pretty  Dick" 
moved    quickly  only  when    there  were    girls    in 


1 98  Trans-  Caspia  : 

sight,  of  which  there  seemed  always  any  num- 
ber when  he  was  known  to  be  coming.  If 
we  ordered  an  early  start,  they  raised  their 
eyebrows  in  pohte  surprise,  and  we,  if  luck 
went  well,  got  off  at  9  a.  m.  Here  a  five 
o'clock  order  for  moving  is  generally  obeyed 
to  within  half  an  hour,  and  these  men  are  not 
above  their  business.  As  I  sit  in  my  yourt 
writing  this  morning,  their  clatter  and  noise  is 
tremendous  ;  but  I  notice  that  the  work  moves 
steadily  forward,  and  now  Rachmed  appears 
at  the  door,  and,  with  a  deep  salaam,  announces 
that  all  is  ready,  and  we  move  onward  more 
and  more  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains. 

This  is  our  last  yourt,  and  to-night  we  shall 
raise  our  own  tents  and  be  our  own  landlords. 
I  find  that  the  life  is  agreeing  with  me  won- 
derfully. I  sleep  like  a  top  and  can  eat  almost 
any  thing,  all  of  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  will 
be  entirely  upset  by  a  return  to  the  delights 
of  civilization. 

The  erection  of  a  yourt  is  no  small  under- 
taking. We  had  expected  to  see  no  more  of 
them,  but  the  one  of  last    night    reached    here 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  1 99 

almost  as  soon  as  we  did.  It  required  a  horse 
and  a  cow  to  carry  it.  The  rack-Hke  framework 
is    first    erected    in   circular  form,  after  which  a 


dome-like  top  of  staves,  open  \\\  the  center, 
is  bound  on  with  rope.  Around  the  frame  is 
stretched  a  bamboo  screen,  and  over  that  skins 


200  Ti'LUis-  Caspia  : 

are  drawn  and  bound  down.  A  door  gives 
entrance  to  the  structure,  which  no  storm  seems 
able  to  blow  over.  They  are  cool  in  summer 
and  warm  in  winter,  and  the  opening"  in  the 
top  allows  one  to  build  a  fire  in  the  tent  in 
cold  weather.  I  trust  I  may  never  be  called 
upon  to  inhabit  a  place  less  comfortable,  in 
which  case  I  have  no  dread  of  my  future 
-•  habitations. 

These    regions    are   alive    with    our  domestic 
pigeons.     B.    has   killed    two    just    now,    which 
/         will    come    in    well    for   dinner,    but    it    seemed 
/  cruel  to  kill  them.     I  felt  more  resentment  than 

'  pity  when  I  discovered  that  they  were  too  tough 

\  to  eat.     I  notice  some  birds  of  most  exquisite 

plumage.  One  on  a  rock  near  by  is  clothed 
as  though  condemned  to  the  penitentiary  for 
life,  and  it  is  in  fact  called  the  "jail  bird." 
The  black  and  white  stripes  are  of  equal 
breadth,  and  pass  around  the  body  and  wings, 
while  the  neck,  head,  and  comb  are  of  a  bril- 
liant brown.  Another  is  of  a  turquoise  blue 
and  gold ;  while  a  third  has  wings  of  a  moss 
green    color,    which    shade    off    into    the    olive 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         201 

of  its  neck  and  deep  crimson  of  the  head  and 
breast. 

All  the  cows  here  are  mares ;  at  least  one 
would  so  judge,  as  we  can  get  nothing  save 
koumiss,  a  liquid  which,  like  the  Mexican 
pulque,  I  can  not  drink. 

Our  route  to-day  covered  only  twenty  versts, 
which  left  us  most  of  the  afternoon  in  camp. 
One  must — on  account  of  the  horses — regulate 
his  journeys  by  the  grass  to  be  found,  of  which 
there  is  not  much  in  these  mountains.  The 
air  does  not  turn  fresh  at  sunset,  as  in  our 
Rockies,  but  is  cool  and  balmy,  and  becomes 
cold  before  daybreak,  when  a  strong  wind  gen- 
erally precedes  the  rising  of  the  sun  by  an  hour 
or  so.      Last  night  I  slept  under  two   blankets. 

This  is  the  early  morning  of  July  4th,  and 
though  I  am  some  hours  in  advance  of  home 
time,  still  I  doubt  not  but  that  the  inevitable 
small  boy  across  the  water  has  already  ex- 
pressed his  approval  of  the  act  done  in  the 
last  century. 


202  Trans-  Caspia 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

July  4,  1894. 
73  ETTER  twenty  years  of  Europe  than 
JL/  a  cycle  of  Cathay."  Perhaps  so,  but 
Cathay  in  these  solitudes  as  the  sun  rises  is 
certainly  very  beautiful,  and  I  doubt  not  that  the 
human  body  would  stand  the  cycle  here  better 
than  the  twenty  years  in  the  gay  cities  of  the 
world.  Man  seems  to  come  in  close  communion 
with  the  great  hereafter  in  these  mountains,  to 
attain,  as  it  were,  even  here  on  earth  "a  closer 
walk  with  God."  All  the  littlenesses  and  small- 
nesses  that  may  have  beset  his  life  drop  away 
and  are  forgotten,  and  I  think  if  he  were  called 
to  the  Divine  Presence  from  the  heart  of  these 
hills  that  the  recording  angel  would  wipe  out 
much  of  his  indebtedness,  because  of  his  for- 
giveness of  all  below. 

One  soon  adopts   caravan    hours — asleep    be- 
fore   nine  o'clock,  awakened    before  4:30  a.   m., 


The  Scaled  Provijices  of  the  Czar.         203 

which  does  not  seem  so  very  early,  and  the  air 
at  that  hour  is  too  full  of  life  for  sleep — "  death's 
younger  brother" — to  be  indulged  in.  Here 
come  the  horses  back  from  the  hio-her  moun- 
tains,  whither  they  went  at  sunset  in  search 
of  grass.      By  5:30  we  are  again  en  route. 

Rachmed  has  been  giving  us  his  experience 
in  Paris.  Between  his  half  a  dozen  French 
words,  his  flow  of  Sart,  Persian,  and  Chinese, 
intermixed  with  many  gestures,  it  was  intensely 
funny.  It  seems  he  was  most  attractive  to  the 
women,  who  gathered  around  him  in  such  flocks 
at  the  restaurant  that  he  could  not  eat  his 
dinner,  and,  therefore,  a  la  Turk,  knocked 
down  one  or  two  of  them,  and  was  promptly 
jailed  by  the  police.  It  took  several  linguists 
from  the  university,  together  with  Bonvalot, 
to  release  him,  after  which  he  declared,  "  Paris 
finish  beaucoup  femme,  beaucoup  femme,"  and 
left  for  London,  where  he  was  unmolested.  He 
is  not  the  first,  as  he  will  not  be  the  last,  for 
whom  the  women  of  Paris  have  proved  too 
much. 

There  was  a  great  commotion  just  now  when 


204  Trails-  Caspia  : 

it  was  discovered  that  "  Balaam's  Ass "  (our 
one  donkey)  had  devoured  the  chief's  dinner. 
That  donkey  is  wise  beyond  his  generation. 
I  notice  that  he  eats  every  thing  in  sight  and 
rests  on  all  occasions. 

So  far,  this  road  could  be  traversed  by  the 
tarantass.  In  fact,  the  great  two-wheeled  cart, 
the  "  arba,"  does  come,  and  an  army  could 
easily  be  marched  swiftly  southward.  It  is 
rather  a  marvel  to  me  that  Russia  has  not 
built  a  railroad  at  least  to  Gulcha. 

Thirty-two  versts  is  not  very  much,  but  one 
must  search  for  pasture,  and,  when  found,  there 
abide,  be  the  journey  long  or  short,  for  the 
horses'  sake.  All  these  thirty-two  versts  are 
over  a  jumble  of  mountains  and  valleys,  for 
which  even  nature  appears  to  have  little  use. 
No  life,  animal  or  vegetable,  is  to  be  seen  any- 
where. Even  the  w^andering  Kirghiz  appear 
to  have  given  up  in  despair.  About  noon, 
we  pass  "  Surfe  Kuhrghan,"  a  desolate,  de- 
serted, and  useless  fort,  useless  even  to  Russia. 
Around  its  base  rushes  the  Gulcha  River,  while 
the    red    cliffs   rise    behind    it,  to   be   backed    in 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.        205 

turn  by  the  higher  mountains,  over  which  the 
Terek  Pass  is  laid  out;  but  because  of  the 
mud  thereon,  we  must  go  over  to  the  Taldek, 
and  thereby  add  a  day  or  more  to  our  journey. 
Our  camp  to-night  is  by  the  Taldek  River, 
and  in  a  basin  of  red  rocks,  B.'s  huntinof 
guides  meet  him  here,  and  our  separation  is 
near  at  hand.  The  prospect  of  parting  seems 
to  have  affected  Ham  Rachoul  more  than  any 
of  us ;  or  is  it  the  recollection  that,  for  all  the 
months  that  he  will  be  absent,  he  has  left  his 
wife  but  two  roubles  for  her  support?  At  any 
rate,  he  sits  out  there  on  the  mountain  side, 
deep  in  reverie  of  some  sort. 

Akbosagx\,  July  7,  1894. 
A  high  valley,  its  altitude  somewhere  be- 
tween eight  and  nine  thousand  feet.  In  ap- 
pearance it  greatly  reminds  me  of  the  Engadine. 
To-day  we  cross  the  Taldek  Pass,  but  it  is 
only  four  thousand  feet  above  us.  The  Alai 
Valley  lies  just  beyond.  In  the  Sart  language 
the  word    means  "  Paradise,"  but  any  place  in 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         207 

this  land  that  possesses  water  and  grass  is  a 
paradise. 

Crossed  the  Taldek  Pass,  eleven  thousand, 
eight  hundred  feet  in  altitude.  Some  fine 
scenery.  The  passage  is  very  easy  at  this 
season.  As  we  descended  the  south  side,  the 
entire  range  of  Trans-Alai  Mountains  spread 
before  us — a  very  magnificent  sight,  not  sur- 
passed, as  a  whole,   on  the  globe. 

B.  turns  southward  here,  and  I  eo  eastward. 
I  confess  the  prospect  of  the  next  month  and 
a  half  alone  is  not  a  cheerful  one.  It  will  be 
broken,  however,  at  Kashgar,  Yarkand,  and 
Leh,  where  I  shall  find  the  English  tongue. 
I  am  camping  to-night  in  the  midst  of  the  first 
large  Kirghiz  town  that  I  have  seen,  and  a 
strange  sight  it  is :  numbers  of  yourts,  sur- 
rounded by  groups  of  fantastically  dressed 
women  and  dark-looking  men;  herds  of  horses, 
cows,  and  camels  wandering  hither  and  thither 
over  the  rich  grass.  The  Kizil-Su  (Red  River) 
flows,  copper-colored,  before  my  tent,  while 
over  its  valley  rise  the  mountains  in  snowy 
masses    until    lost   in  cloudland.      It  is  only  the 


2o8  Trans- Caspia: 

strong  arm  of  Russia  that  protects  me  here. 
Two  months  since,  a  Russian  traveler,  with  his 
attendants,  was  murdered  on  the  Terek  Pass 
by  their  guide,  one  of  these  same  Kirghiz ; 
but  Russian  venofeance  found  the  murderer  in 
short  order,  and  he  now  awaits  the  rope  at 
Marghilan.  They  seem  friendly  here  now,  and 
have  just  sent  a  deputation  to  me  with  some 
fresh  milk,  which  is  most  acceptable,  Rachmed 
takes  great  delight  in  trying  to  induce  me  to 
drink  koumiss  and  other  stuffs,  but  does  not 
succeed.  So  the  milk  is  most  welcome.  When 
the  Kirghiz  presented  it,  he  placed  his  hand 
on  his  belt  and  made  a  bow  that  with  us  would 
convince  one  that  he  was  troubled  with  violent 
disorder  in  that  portion  of  his  anatomy,  but 
here  it  is  a  salutation  denoting  the  deepest 
respect.  Rachmed  informs  me  that  he,  himself, 
not  the  Kirghiz,  has  two  wives.  The  first  lost 
a  leg  soon  after  marriage,  and  was  "  not  much 
use,"  so  he  married  another.  "  With  three 
legs,  the  two  get  along  very  well." 

I   met  the  post  going  west  to-day,  and    sent 
home   a    letter.     No    matter   how    remote,    one 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         209 

always    meets    with    some    touch    of    the    outer 
world  near  him. 

It  is  not  altogether  a  pleasant  thing,  when 
you  are  up  and  ready  for  a  long  ride,  to  find 
that  the  horses  are  off  in  the  mountains,  and 
to  be  told  that  the  Sart  in  charge  has  probably 
gone  to  sleep  and  won't  wake  up  for  hours. 
Such  is  my  case  at  present.  There  is  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  be  done  or  said  about  it,  and 
it  is  certainly  no  use  to  get  angry.  Heaven 
knows  when  my  handful  of  horses  will  become 
separated  again  from  the  thousands  of  animals 
gone  from  here  to  the  mountains.  Of  the 
multitude  on  the  plain  last  night,  nothing  now 
remains  save  some  old  men  and  women  and 
(I  should  not  forget  him)  the  chief  of  the  tribe, 
who,  in  gorgeous  raiment,  came  to  call  this 
morning.  The  matter  of  the  horses  is  more 
serious  than  I  thouorht  for.  It  seems  that  the 
man  in  charge  slept  on  here  in  camp,  while 
our  animals  wandered  off  with  the  Kirghiz 
horses  to  the  hills.  I  suppose  they  will  re- 
turn to-night,  and  at  best  it  is  but  a  day  lost; 
but    they    may   wander    backward    toward    Osh. 


2 1  o  Trans-  Caspia  : 

They  are  finally  found,  and  we  start  some  three 
hours  late.  The  Sart  who  is  to  blame  is  in 
mortal  terror  lest  I  write  to  Colonel  Gromb- 
schefsky,  which  would  mean  fine  and  imprison- 
ment for  him.  I  shall  hold  it  over  him  to  insure 
no  repetition.  The  loss  of  one's  horses  here 
is  much  like  being  dropped  overboard  at  sea. 
My  route  lies  directly  eastward  through  the 
Alai  Valley,  and  I  shall  stop  to-night  at  the 
Russian  frontier  fort  of  Irkeshtan.  This  is  my 
first  day  alone.  All  the  morning  I  have  jogged 
along  in  silence,  Rachmed  in  front  and  the 
pack  behind,  none  of  them  speaking  enough 
French  to  render  conversation  possible.  It  is 
not  cheerful  work,  but  it  can  not  be  helped ; 
so  I  spend  my  time  between  admiration  of  the 
mountains  and  the  flora.  The  latter  is  very 
extensive.  The  "  edel-weiss,"  so  sought  after 
in  Switzerland,  grows  all  over  this  valley ;  so 
does  the  "gentian"  and  "forget-me-not." 
There  is  no  wood  anywhere,  and  Rachmed. 
in  the  absence  of  the  pack,  is  forced  to  make 
tea  over  a  fire  of  manure — not  a  very  rapid 
operation.      How  quiet  it  all  is!      Only  he  and  I 


The  Sealed  Pi'ovi7iccs  of  the  Czar.         2 1 1 

alone  here  in  all  this  wilderness!  The  grass  is 
deep  and  green  and  the  brook  gurgles  onward 
singing.  Around  the  shoulder  of  a  great  rock 
a  solitary  camel  makes  his  appearance,  to  be 
followed  in  sedate  fashion  by  another  and 
another,  until  I  am  surrounded  by  a  vast  cara- 
van, when  that  which  was  lonely  and  deserted 
becomes  all  alive  and  bustlingr,  with  the  life 
of   one    of  those    moving    cities. 

NooRAir,  Sunday.  July  8th. 
The  entire  ride  yesterday  was  over  a  suc- 
cession of  passes  and  mountains,  enlivened  here 
and  there  by  a  deep  green  meadow  with  a 
pool  of  clear  water  in  its  midst.  Invariably 
in  every  such  oasis  we  met  with  one  of  those 
gigantic  caravans  which  for  ages  have  trodden 
these  paths  from  the  Celestial  Kingdom  to  the 
barbarous  west.  One  of  them  to-day  must 
have  been  composed  of  some  five  hundred 
of  those  patient  "ships  of  the  desert."  The 
scene  was  most  picturesque  and  patriarchal. 
Near  the  pool  were  the  huge  bales  ot  goods, 
watched  over  by  turbancd  and  bearded   figures, 


2  I  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

while  the  tent  of  the  "Membashie"  rose  a 
blue  patch  from  the  water's  edge.  Around 
soared  the  gigantic  mountains,  green  merging 
into  grey,  grey  melting  into  the  everlasting 
snows,  which  showed  sharp  and  clear  against 
the  intense  blue  of  the  sky.  Hither  and  thither 
in  couples  or  strings  of  fifty  or  a  hundred,  noise- 
lessly moved  the  camels,  each  division  led  by  a 
stately  patriarchal  figure,  which,  if  it  caught 
your  eye,  immediately  bent  low  in  deep  salaam. 
Rachmed  says  that  the  camel  suffers  much 
from  rheumatism,  hence  this  exercising  after  a 
day's  journey.  Certainly  one  would  fancy  that 
if  any  disease  troubled  these  beasts  it  would 
be    that. 

Later  in  the  day  we  crossed  the  two  branches 
of  the  Kizil-Su  River,  the  waters  of  which,  al- 
ways as  red  as  copper,  and  full  of  sand,  are  often 
in  beautiful  contrast  with  the  blues  and  greens 
of  the  mountain  brooks.  It  was  rather  difficult 
work  at  times  getting  the  pack  over.  All  of 
them  hesitated  save  Balaam's  Ass,  who  always 
made  straight  for  the  flood,  and  never  seemed  to 
wet  any  thing  he  carried.      However,  his  burden 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai'.  2 1 3 

has  been  so  greatly  reduced  that  he  might 
almost  be  considered  a  "parlor  boarder."  He 
certainly  boards  near  my  tent,  and  enters  into 
confidences  two  or  three  times  each  night,  so 
that  I  fear  that  I  offer  up  a  prayer  that  he  may 
not   find   his  voice — one    must  sleep  you  know. 

There  are  on  the  maps  two  "  Kizil-Su"  Rivers, 
one  flowing  west  from  the  Alai  and  joining  the 
Oxus,  the  other  east  and  enterincr  the  Kashoar  ; 
so  that  the  waters  of  the  first,  such  as  escape 
destruction  in  the  black  sand  of  the  desert,  enter 
the  Sea  of  Aral,  while  the  other  flows  onward  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean.*  The  gorges  of  the  latter 
are  very  grand  ;  great  masses  of  red  sandstone, 
carved  into  fantastic  shapes  by  the  passing  ot 
winds  and  waters  and  the  flight  ot   time. 

To-day  we  enter  China.  Rachmed  regards 
her  people  as  of  those  not  to  be  trusted,  and  at 
his  suggestion  I  have  armed  myself  with  two  re- 
volvers instead  of  one,  with,  I  fancy,  greater  dan- 
ger to  myself  than  to  any  one  else.  At  present 
I   am  left  high  and  dry  on  a  stony  island   in   the 

*  The  outlet  of  this  "  Kizil-Su  "  does  not  seem  to  have  been  fuUv 
determined,  though  it  is  believed  to  flow  into  the  great  "  Yellow 
River"  of  China. 


214 


1  lains-  Caspia 


middle  of  the  Kizll-Su  River,  with  nothing  in 
the  shape  of  baggage  save  my  kodak  and  a  yel- 
low umbrella.  The  pack  has  gone  forward  to 
effect  a  passage,  and  I  will  be   "sent  for."      If 


"  Irkeshtan,"  Russia's  Last  1<ort. 

not,  I  shall  return  to  Fort  Irkeshtan,  which  we 
have  left  but  two  versts  behind,  and  in  doing  so 
bade  farewell  to  all  that  is  Russian.  Whatever 
I  may  think  of  Russian  methods  of  government,  I 
have  nothing  save  praise   for  Russian  hospitality, 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         2 1 5 

from  Prince  Galitzine*  at  St.  Petersburcr  to  the 
little  yellow-headed  custodian  of  this  extreme 
outpost  of  the  great  empire,  as  he  stood,  cap  in 
hand,  bowing  an  adieu.  He  treated  us  to  our 
last  samovar  and  cakes,  and  bestowed  upon  me 
two  chickens  and  a  half  a  dozen  eggs,  a  present 
for  which  he  absolutely  refused  all  payment,  and 
which,  let  me  tell  you,  in  this  barren  land,  was 
more  appreciated  than  the  most  dainty  dinner 
when  in   Paris. 

The  river  is  crossed  at  last,  and  I  turn  to 
take  a  last  look  at  its  red  tide,  its  crimson 
rocks,  its  snow-clad  mountains,  and  then  move 
onward  into  China.  Up  the  valley  of  a  dried- 
up  creek  moves  the  pack,  and  Rachmed  and 
I  follow.  Yesterday  all  was  life  and  movement, 
green  grass  and  rushing  streams,  while  the  air 
was  ladened  with  the  perfume  of  many  flowers. 
This  valley  up  which  we  are  traveling  is  barren 
of  life  of  any  sort,  save  that  shown  by  some 
straggling  sage  bushes,  while  here  and  there 
the  skeleton  of  some  dead  camel  grins  ghastly 
from  the  yellow  sands.     The    scenery  loses    its 

*  The  head  of  that  noble  house,  not  the  degenerate  scion  lately  "sold 
out"  in  New  York  because  he  could  not  "live  up  to  his  blue  riiiiia.' 


2 1 6  Trans-  Caspia  : 

interest,  and,  dropping  my  bridle,  1  allow  my 
horse  to  plod  onward  (which  he  does  with  his 
eyes  shut,  apparently,  as  he  shortly  runs  into 
a  rock),  while  my  thoughts  quickly  span  the 
distance  between  here  and  home ;  but  one  does 
not  dream  long  in  such  a  place.  Down  the 
gully  comes  a  hot  wind  that  would  be  suffocating 
but  for  a  counter  breeze  of  delicious  coolness 
from  the  Alai  Mountains  behind  us.  Onward 
for  three  hours  we  plod,  until  finally  a  wide 
green  valley  opens  out,  and  the  horses  press 
on,  hoping  for  water,  only  to  be  disappointed — 
nothing  in  it  save  sand  and  sage  brush. 
It  is  not  until  another  hour  is  passed  that 
we  reach  the  Chinese  post,  Ulkchat,  where 
we  remain  for  the  nio-ht.  It  is  the  extreme 
western  post  of  the  Celestial  Empire,  and  evi- 
dently considered  amply  able  to  protect  itself, 
as  not  a  soldier  is  to  be  seen — nothing  save 
a  lonely  camel  near  the  fort,  who  growls  at 
us  as  we  pass,  fearing  to  be  disturbed ;  but 
with  a  clean  tent  to  sleep  in,  he  need  not  fear 
that  I  want  that  dirty  hole,  and  Rachmed  and 
the  Sarts  always  prefer  to  sleep  in  the  open  air. 
Ulkchat    is    situated    in    a    green    oasis,    with 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         2 1 7 

many  rushing  brooks  around  it,  and  might  be 
made  a  deHghtful  spot  ;  but  the  world  has 
enough  and  to  spare  of  such  without  penetrat- 
ing the  silence  of  these  mountains. 

There  is  such   a   thing    as    having    too    niuch 


,,,.,.....-, .42^ 


The  First  Point  in  China. 

of  patriarchal  life,  as  I  discovered  on  awaken- 
ing Irom  a  nap  this  afternoon  and  fmding  a 
bearded  goat  in  my  tent,  calmly  devouring  a 
trunk  strap.  He  moved  off  with  extreme  dig- 
nity when  I,  shameful  to  relate,  kicked  him  out. 
Rachmed  has  been  in  for  his    usual    evcniiij/ 


2 1 8  Trans-  Caspia  : 

chatter,  and  though  his  words  are  a  grand 
mixture  of  a  dozen  languages,  he  manages 
to  make  himself  understood.  My  not  being 
well  to-day  furnishes  him  with  his  text.  He 
says  Prince  G,  was  sick  all  the  time,  and  the 
Duke  D.  ditto.  His  confab  is  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  the  "  Membashie,"  or  village 
chief,  who  brings  a  sheep  to  me  as  a  present, 
and  in  return  for  which  I  give  him  a  silver 
watch,  which  makes  him  strut  like  a  turkey 
cock.  He  does  not  know  how  cheaply  they  are 
made  in  the  West,  nor  that  I  have  laid  in  a 
supply  for  just  such  occasions.  It  is  not  much 
fun  being  ill,  but  I  am  alone  to  blame.  I 
knew  those  greasy  cakes  at  Fort  Irkeshtan 
would  not  agree  with  me,  but  nothing  but  tea 
and  canned  things  for  days  made  me  forgetful. 
In  my  notes  of  yesterday,  I  find  I  was  en- 
tirely wrong.  This  is  not  the  Chinese  fort 
Ulkchat,  but  a  stopping  point  called  the 
"Fort,"  a  mere  Dak  Bungalow,  so  called  even 
here,  which  is  our  first  evidence  of  Anglo- 
Indian  influence,  even  though  we  be  so  far  off 
that  frontier. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         2 1 9 

July  9th. 
We  lunch  to-day  in  a  grove  of  old  trees, 
that,  though  poplar,  have  much  the  appear- 
ance of  the  olive,  and  I  think  the  garden 
of  Gethsemane  must  have  been  much  such  a 
spot,   not  only  in  the  days  of   the   Passion,  but 


centuries  after ;  and,  indeed,  that  sacred  bit  of 
ground  would  look  to-day  much  as  this  does, 
had  it  not  been  desecrated  by  the  wall  which 
incloses  it,  and  by  the  many  gaudy  Roman 
shrines.  To  my  mind  were  it  open  and  free 
to  all,  were  its  fountains  the  trysting  place  of 
all  nations,  and  its  trees  still  shelters  for  the 
camel ;  if  one  could  in  fact  wander  under 
their    venerable    shade     alone     and     with     fn^e 


2  20  Trans- Caspia  : 

rein  to  such  thoughts  as  must  come  to  the 
hardest  of  heart  there,  I  think  Gethsemane 
would  be  a  much  more  sacred  spot  than  now, 
when  one  has  sometimes  to  fire  rocks  over 
the  wall  to  awaken  the  sleeping  monk,  who, 
when  he  unlocks  the  low  door  to  you,  nearly 
knocks  you  over  by  the  smell  of  garlic  and  of 
his  foul  person.  Here  in  the  heart  of  Asia  this 
solemn  spot  is  clothed  in  silence,  save  for  the 
murmur  of  the  river,  and  the  grumble  of  some 
camel  from  a  caravan  that  I  can  just  discern 
through  the  trees,  whose  knarled  and  knotted 
trunks  and  dense  foliagfe  have  afforded  such 
a  delightful  hour  of  repose  after  a  morning's 
journey  through  the  heat  and  sand,  and  be- 
fore an  afternoon's  ride  of  the  same  kind. 
I  shall  always  think  of  it  as  my  garden  of 
Gethsemane,  only  here  there  has  been  neither 
agony,  nor  sorrow,  nor  the  memory  thereof — 
simply  dreamful  ease. 

We  reached  our  last  crossing  of  the  Kizil-Su 
at  about  2  p.  m.,  and  as  Rachmed  had  no  no- 
tion as  to  the  ford,  a  Kirghiz  came  up  on  his 
camel  and  volunteered  to  pilot  us  across,  w^hich 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.  221 

he  did  successfully.  As  usually  Balaam's  Ass 
insisted  upon  staying  in  the  water  and  had  to 
be  sent  back  after.  One  can  not  blame  the 
beast  on  such  a  hot  day.  I  would  like  to  do 
the  same  myself. 

Stopping  for  milk  at  the  Kirghiz  village,  I 
was  invited  by  my  guide  to  enter  his  yourt 
(also  called  "  Kibitka "),  an  invitation  I  ac- 
cepted, though  with  some  trepidation  on  ac- 
count of  the  dirt.  He  had  to  kick  aside  sev- 
eral mangy  dogs,  and  push  away  the  baby 
camel,  which,  from  the  inside,  blocked  the  en- 
trance. How  filthy  every  thing  was!  yet  one 
of  the  women  drew  out  for  my  seat  a  rug 
that  would  honor  any  drawing  room  at  home, 
and  then  offered  me  a  draught  of  clear,  cool 
water  in  a  dainty  porcelain  cup.  Goats  walked 
in  and  "bahed"  at  me;  a  dirty  cat  was  rather 
more  friendly  than  I  desired.  The  people  sat 
in  a  circle  and  were  politely  curious.  I  say 
"  politely,"  because  they  could  have  given 
lessons  to  many  at  home,  who,  perhaps,  think 
they  do  not  need  such  instruction.  The  women 
wear    towering    white    head    dresses,   which    are 


2  2  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

generally  clean,  but  the  remainder  of  each  cos- 
tume is  generally  composed  oi  one  dirty  gar- 
ment. The  men  "at  home"  wear  as  little  as 
possible,  but  when  out,  wear,  even  in  this  torrid 
weather,  a  sort  of  thick  double  gown  and  a  heavy 
felt  hat.  On  leaving,  I  induced  them  to  allow 
me  to  kodak  the  entire  establishment,  a  picture 
which  I  hope  will  develop  well.  Thev  are  cer- 
tainly a  very  different  race  from  any  I  ever  saw 
before.  Rachmed  tells  me  that  they  live  here  in 
a  sort  of  imprisonment.  The  Russians  will  not 
permit  them  to  enter  their  paradise,  the  Alai, 
and  the  Chinese  keep  them  here.  What  a  life! 
The  place  is  on  the  banks  of  the  dirty  Kizil-Su 
and  surrounded  by  towering  yellow  cliffs  that 
blaze  like  a  furnace  from  early  morning  to  night- 
fall, and  then  the  winds  sweep  down  in  icy 
blasts  from  the  snows  above,  making,  by  their 
extreme  contrast  to  the  day's  heat,  a  place  of 
torture. 

We  ride  onward  for  two  hours,  over  yellow, 
dusty  rocks,  and  in  a  heat  more  oppressive 
than  any  I  have  yet  endured.  I  neglected  to 
mention  our  passing  the  Chinese   fort  Ulkchat, 


2  24  Trans-  Caspia  : 

but  the  description  I  gave  yesterday  before 
we  reached  it  will  answer — "a  wretched,  dirty 
mud  square,"  with  no  sign  of  life  save  the  flag. 
If  soldiers  there  were,  they  must  have  been 
sound  asleep.  Not  even  a  barking  dog  greeted 
us. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.        225 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

AND  now  I  have  to  record  a  disappoint- 
ment and  a  failure.  I  have  dreaded  it  for 
several  days,  but  had  hoped  to  ward  it  off.  The 
heritao-e  of  a  fever  which  almost  laid  me  low 
some  three  years  since  is  an  abnormally  sen- 
sitive digestive  apparatus.  The  doctors  call  its 
exhibitions  "  intestinal  dyspepsia."  It  had  not 
visited  me  for  months,  and  I  had  believed  it  was 
a  thing  of  the  past.  I  must  have  taken  cold  at 
Akbosaga  ten  days  ago,  as  I  noticed  when  I  bade 
B.  farewell  that  I  was  not  in  prime  condition,  but, 
not  wishing  to  spoil  his  trip,  said  nothing,  and 
came  on  alone.  That  night  I  grew  worse,  but 
struggled  onward  until  yesterday  morning,  when 
Rachmed  asked  me  if  I  were  not  ill.  I  had 
scarce  sense  enough  left  to  tell  him  to  take 
the  backward  route  for  Osh.  I  had  discovered 
that  morning  that  my  stomach  refused  even  my 
old  standby,  "  milk,"  which  left  me  nothing  save 


2  26  Ti'a7is-  Caspia  : 

pure  brandy  with  which  to  go  onward  upon,  and 
that,  I  had  been  assured,  could  not  be  obtained 
in  Kashgar,  and  my  supply  was  almost  gone. 
What  a  situation  !  Alone  in  a  Chinese  desert, 
whose  blazing  cliffs  almost  grilled  me  with  their 
reflected  heat ;  not  a  mortal  with  whom  I  could 
speak  save  Rachmed,  and  to  him  only  a  few 
French  words,  eked  out  by  gestures  which  he 
never  understood  ;  before  me  a  two  months'  tour 
ere  I  could  hope  for  succor  ;  behind  me  a  ride  of 
eight  days  to  Osh,  where  I  should  be  sure  of 
finding  rest,  aid,  and  sympathy  !  But  even  then 
I  hesitated.  I  had  so  longed  to  make  this  tour, 
so  longed  to  see  the  Vale  of  Cashmere ;  and 
to  abandon  it  now,  when  all  was  plain  sailing! 
It  was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear  to  think 
of;  and  all  that  morning,  as  I  struggled  through 
that  blazing  desert,  I  battled  against  surrender. 
But  it  had  to  come ;  and  it  seemed  as  though 
another  will,  another  voice  than  my  own,  or- 
dered the  return.  So  we  turned,  and  after  some 
hours  reached  the  Kirghiz  camp  where  we  had 
been  entertained  the  day  before,  and  where  I 
went  to  bed  for  thirty-six  hours. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.        227 

Now  we  are  moving  backward  toward  the 
high,  cold  valley  of  the  Alai.  Of  course  it  is 
best.  Onward  certainly  meant  death  to  me, 
and  I  have  other  work  to  do  before  I  can 
consent  to  that.  I  can  never  speak  of  Rach- 
med's  kindness  and  sympathy,  when  things 
were  at  their  worst,  without  deep  feeling,     To- 


Rachmed. 


day  should  have  been  one  of  great  heat,  and 
therefore  of  intense  distress  for  me,  but  during 
the  night  a  high  wind  arose  and  is  still  blowing. 
It  has  lifted,  carried  far  above  us,  and  filled 
the  sky  with  a  gray  veil  of  sand,  which  has 
shaded  the  sun  and  made  the  day  bearable. 
To-night  we  shall  put  up  in  the  grassy  domin- 
ions   of   the    Membashie    to    whom    I    gave    the 


2  2  8  Trans-  Caspia  : 

watch.  We  met  him  just  now,  and  he  pulled 
it  out  on  me,  explaining  that  it  would  not  go! — 
all  nonsense ;  however,  I  gave  him  mine  in 
exchange,  and  am  now  wearing  his,  which  does 
go.  He  simply  neglected  to  shake  it.  Early 
day  brought  the  same  individual  squatting  be- 
fore my  tent  and  gravely  regarding  his  watch. 
It  had  stopped  again,  because  he  had  not  wound 
it.  The  old  man  either  considers  it  supernatural 
or  as  possessing  perpetual  motion.  He  came 
in  state  on  this  visit,  attended  by  two  or  three 
of  his  cabinet,  one  of  whom,  at  a  wave  from 
his  hand,  presented  me  with  three  eggs,  and 
another  with  a  bowl  of  milk.  You  can  not 
imagine,  unless  you  have  been  situated  as  I 
was,  how  very  acceptable  those  articles  were. 
I  was  strong  enough,  in  consequence  of  being 
able  to  avoid  the  eternal  mutton  soup,  to  take 
a  long  day's  journey.  I  can  see  that  I  have 
risen  greatly  in  the  estimation  of  Rachmed  and 
the  Sarts  of  my  camp  by  the  presentation  of 
that  watch.  Rachmed  says  that  Prince  G.  never 
gave    such    "valuable    presents,"       The    watch 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         229 

cost    about    $3.50;    hence    I    wonder   what    sort 
of  presents  Prince  G.'s  could  have  been. 

July  nth. 
Russia  viewed  from  the  high  plane  of  Euro- 
pean and  American  civilization,  and  Russia 
viewed  from  the  high  plains  of  China,  present 
two  very  different  pictures  to  the  traveler. 
When  I  reached  her  outpost,  Irkeshtan,  this 
morning,  after  a  hot  journey  over  the  desert, 
it  seemed  the  acme  of  all  civilization — a  very 
heart's  content;  and  when  I  passed  among  the 
chickens  and  crows  in  its  dirty  courtyard  and 
on  into  its  low,  dark,  and  dingy  rooms,  there, 
seemed  a  place  I  should  like  to  linger  in  ;  and 
the  slovenly,  ragged  little  keeper  a  prince  of 
entertainers.  I  do  not  think  that  tea  ever 
tastes  so  well  as  when  the  water  comes  from 
a  samovar,  and  that  particular,  much  battered, 
and  damaged  samovar  gave  out  most  delicious 
hot  water.  The  room  was  dark,  and  oh,  so 
cool  after  the  blazing  sunlight.  Again  the 
Emperor's  picture  smiled  benignly  down  upon 
me,  and   I   felt  that  at  least  there  was  a  power 


230  Tra US-  Caspia  : 

that  could  be  applied  to  in  case  of  necessity, 
and  with  some  chance  of  succor  being  granted; 
Russia,  even  in  that  remote  outpost,  seeming 
very  active  and  stirring  after  the  death-like 
silence  of  Western  China,  whose  last  fort, 
Ulkchat,  I  left  this  morning,  rising  a  yellow  mud 
structure,  over  which  silence  and  decay  held 
perpetual  sway.  Fort  Irkeshtan  was,  on  the  con- 
trary, a  commodious  white  building,  which  gave 
evidence  of  occupation.  There  were  thirty- 
six  Cossacks  there,  though,  aside  from  mine 
host  in  the  post-house  below  the  fort,  I  did 
not  see  one.  I  was  not  permitted  to  enter  the 
military  structure ;  only  the  post-house,  whose 
custodian  informed  me  that  he  was  not  married, 
and  assured  me  that  there  was  not  a  woman 
on  the  place.  (It  is  marvelous  what  a  conversa- 
tion can  be  carried  on  by  gestures.)  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that,  as  I  departed,  I  saw  two  Kirghiz 
women  peering  from  behind  the  door  of  a  yourt. 
It  is  not  the  first  instance  in  which  curiosity  on 
the  part  of  that  sex  has  utterly  destroyed  the 
reputation  of  our  race. 

The  journey  backward  into  the  beautiful  Alal 


The  Scaled  Pi'ovinces  of  the  Czar.         231 

Valley  is  picturesque  and  interesting.  We 
forded  the  Kizil-Su  no  less  than  six  times, 
getting  very  wet  once  or  twice— no  pleasure 
that,  in  its  nasty  red  waters.  The  cliffs  become 
very  wild  and  rugged  as  we  mount,  until 
finally  we  reach  the  upper  table-land  of  this 
valley  of  paradise.  Once  more  the  snowy 
mountains  stretch  away  before  us ;  once  more 
the  hills  and  valleys  are  covered  with  the  pa- 
triarchal tribes  and  with  flocks  and  herds.  We 
have  come  for  hours  over  beds  of  flowers,  and 
to-night,  as  I  wait  for  my  dinner,  my  horses 
are  taking  theirs  off  of  masses  of  mignonette, 
while  the  little  donkey  rolls  in  a  bed  of  forget- 
me-nots. 

July  12th. 
We  have  been  delayed  some  time  this  morn- 
ing, and  all  because  Balaam's  Ass  discovered 
a  sweetheart  somewhere  near,  and  went  off  by 
night  to  visit  her.  How  to  discover  our  wan- 
dering Don  Juan  was  a  problem,  and  I  was 
for  moving  on  without  him  ;  but  that  was  un- 
necessary. His  voice  gave  him  awa)',  and  he 
was  brought   back  to  duty. 


FORDING    THE    KIZIL-SU. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai\  233 

These  Sarts  are  a  ciinninor  lot,  and  will  take 
advantage  wherever  they  can.  They  are  spend- 
ing at  least  an  hour  fussing  over  their  horses 
this  morning,  on  the  plea  that  the  extra  duration 
of  yesterday's  journey  renders  it  necessary.  It 
makes  no  difference  to  me,  as  I  shall  insist 
upon  just  so  many  versts,  no  matter  how  late  we 
are  in  getting  off.  There  is  no  use  becoming 
impatient.  It  simply  starts  them  in  a  torrent 
of  words,  all  of  which  are  Greek  to  you,  and 
also  merely  delays  their  progress.  You  will 
have  your  way  in  the  end  ;  and  if  you  have 
any  serious  trouble,  simply  threaten  them  with 
a  report  to  the  Russian  governor  of  the  prov- 
ince, and  they  will  come  down  from  their  high 
positions  at  once. 

"  HOUTMART,"    July     I  2th. 

That  is  as  near  to  the  name  as  I  can  make 
out  from  Rachmed's  pronunciation.  It  has  no 
name  or  place  on  any  map,  but  is  simply  two 
yourts  that  stand  at  the  south  of  the  Taldek 
Pass.  Here  it  was  that  I),  and  I  separated 
a  week  ago,  and  here  I  am  back  again,  en 
route    to    Europe,  while    he   is   lost    somewhere 


2  34  Trans-  Caspia  : 

in  the  snows  to  the  southward.  I  am  met  and 
welcomed  by  several  Kirghiz,  who  apologize 
for  the  absence  of  their  Membashie,  He  has 
crossed  the  Taldek  to  meet  General  Jorneoff, 
who  is  en  route  to  that  much-watched  region, 
the  Pamirs.  He  is  called  their  conqueror, 
though  what  satisfaction  Russia  has  derived 
from  the  conquest  of  that  region  of  snow  and 
ice,  a  few  wandering  tribes  and  their  flocks, 
remains  to  be  seen.  It  certainly  is  of  no  use 
to  the  empire,  and  I  do  not  think  it  ever  can 
be.  A  jealous  fear  of  England  prompted  the 
move.  As  I  have  stated  before,  I  met  this 
conqueror  at  dinner  at  the  governor's  house  in 
Marghilan. 

One  soon  learns  to  look  upon  a  yourt  as  a 
place  of  refuge.  Whenever  I  come  across  one 
at  our  resting  places,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  enter, 
being  sure  of  a  welcome,  unless  some  of  the 
animals  object.  If  they  do,  they  are  at  once 
ejected. 

July  14th. 

To-day  I  bid  farewell — and  I  suppose  forever, 
as  I  shall   not  be  likely  to  return  here — to  these 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czai'.         235 

Alai  Mountains.  They  spread  all  along  the 
south  side  of  this  great  green  valley  in  a  won- 
derfully beautiful  panorama.  There  are  four 
peaks  in  sight  now  that  must  certainly  overtop 
any  thing  in  Switzerland.  During  the  night 
fresh  snow  has  fallen,  and  they  glitter  most 
dazzlingly  down,  almost  to  where  the  green  line 
rises.  Beyond  them  lies  the  Pamirs,  whither  I 
should  like  to  go  if  health  permitted  and  I  had 
a  pleasant  companion  or  two.  There  is  no  use 
trying  to  go  alone  on  such  journeys.  Perhaps, 
if  I  had  had  companions,  I  might  have  done 
better  this  time  ;  but  no  "  company  "  can  ward 
off  bodily  ills,  though  they  may  and  do  help 
one  to  bear  them. 

I  shall  anticipate  here,  and  quote  portions 
of  a  letter  received  from  India.  It  is  dated 
the  2d  of  October,  and  is  from  Bylandt,  show- 
ing that  he  has  succeeded  in  making  his  tour, 
but  that  the  journey  was  a  hard  one. 

"  I  have  had  rather  a  hard  time  of  it,  but 
after  all  feel  in  capital  spirits  at  having  suc- 
cessfully accomplished  even  my  dearest  wish, 
namely,  to  cross  Hunza.     I  had  to  leave  every 


236  Trans- Caspia  : 

thing  and  every  body  behind,  and,  all  by  my- 
self, pushed  on  through  the  narrow  gorges  and 
along  the  rushing  torrent  of  Hunza,  with  the 
roughest  lot  of  coolies  to  carry  my  baggage. 
In  the  Tagh  Dum  Bash,  two  Chinese  kept  me 
a  prisoner  for  three  days.  I  succeeded  in  get- 
ting a  good  bag  (ovis  poli,  bear,  etc.).  I  am 
now  trying  to  get  my  permission  to  find  my 
way  back  through  Afghanistan.  If  I  should 
not  succeed,  I  hope  to  go  by  Kelat  and  Persia. 
I  am  now  on  my  way  to  Simla.  I  hope  to 
look  up  Beddoes  in  Ouetta,  but  have  not  yet 
found  out  whether  he  has  returned  to  India. 
People  are  very  kind  to  me.  I  am  now  stay- 
ing with  Baron  Bentinck,  a  countryman  of  mine. 
Cashmere  is  a  charming  country.  I  stayed 
with  the  Resident  in  Srinagfar.  Your  two 
countrymen.  Church  and  Phillips,  were  very 
nearly  starved  to  death  on  the  Pamirs.  Their 
coolies  ran  away,  taking  all  their  provisions. 
With  best  wishes  for  your  entire  recovery, 
"  Yours  truly, 

"J.  DE  Bylandt." 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.         237 

I  am  indeed  glad  to  know  that  he  is  safe, 
and  sincerely  trust  that  he  has  not  been  allowed 
to  try  the  Afghan  trip — one's  life  is  not  worth 
much  in  that  country — though  he  will  get 
through  if  any  one  can.  He  is  most  deter- 
mined, and  has  both  youth  and  perfect  health 
on  his  side.  It  is  and  will  always  be  a  great 
regret  to  me  that  we  separated,  as  I  should, 
I  feel  convinced,  have  gotten  on  all  right ;  and 
I  mean  to  do  that  tour  yet.  However,  in  the 
safety  and  seclusion  of  one's  own  home,  one 
resolves  on  many  things  that  fate  does  not 
permit  him  to  accomplish. 

I  awoke  this  morning  and  found  the  Sarts 
luxuriously  asleep.  One  of  them  sent  me  word 
that  he  would  go  for  the  horses  shortly.  It  is 
useless  to  say  that  he  went  very  promptly.  I 
have  been  rather  too  lenient  with  them.  Like 
all  servants  over  here,  they  respect  only  the 
hand  that  is  firm.  The  "  verst  post,"  the  first 
sign  of  civilization,  has  appeared  again.  As 
we  slowly  mount  the  approach  to  the  Taldek 
Pass,  I  turn  for  a  farewell  view  of  the  Alai.  I 
shall    always    think  of   it    as    a    place    of  green 


238  Trans-  Caspia  : 

grass  and  many  flowers,  of  gurgling  brooks 
and  snowy  mountains  ;  as  a  place  where  I  have 
found  true  hospitality.  My  return  passage  of 
the  "  Taldek "  is  much  more  interestingf  than 
was  the  first,  the  scenery  as  viewed  from  the 
south  being  more  rugged  and  bolder  in  out- 
line. Of  course,  it  in  no  way  equals  the  view 
of  the  Trans-Ali,  but  you  see  none  of  that 
in  your  passage  southward  until  the  Taldek 
is  far  behind  you.  I  am  referring  now  simply 
to  the  scenery  that  pertains  to  that  pass,  and 
it  is  certainly  much  more  interesting  as  viewed 
coming  north.  In  addition,  marvelous  to  relate, 
it  does  not  in  many  places  seem  familiar,  though 
my  former  passage  was  just  ten  days  ago.  So 
strange  to  me  do  portions  of  it  appear,  that  I 
question  Rachmed  as  to  whether  we  have  not 
come  another  route  ;  but  that  could  not  be,  as 
we  are  on  the  one  military  road  in  this  section. 
The  panorama  is  very  varied  and  grand  all  day 
long,  and  the  tempest  of  wund  which  sweeps 
from  the  north  makes  the  day,  which  would 
otherwise  be  intensely  hot,  very  pleasant.  But 
it    is    all    very    solitary.      Here    and    there     one 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         239 

comes  suddenly  upon  a  lonely  tomb.  Each 
and  all  of  the  quaint  structures  have  had  their 
portals  broken  open  by  some  marauder  in  search 
of  treasure,  which,  of  course,  as  the  poor  dead 
man  had  none  in  life,  they  find  not. 

We  make  forty-six  versts  to-day,  and  then  halt 
on  a  green  island  in  the  Gulcha  River.  I  imme- 
diately seek  the  shade  of  the  adjacent  cliffs,  while 
Rachmed  lies  face  down  and  goes  to  sleep  with 
the  sun  blazing  on  his  back.  What  a  tough  and 
what  a  queer  people  these  Sarts  are  !  Such  an 
exposure  would  make  a  white  man  ill  under  this 
sun  in  short  order.  Just  now,  when  I  wanted 
to  jump  the  stream,  he  objected,  and  wanted 
to  carry  me  over.  On  my  refusal,  he  went  to 
sleep,  while  I  sat  down  to  watch  for  our  caravan, 
which  can  not,  on  account  of  the  passes  and 
head  winds,   be  here  for  an  hour  or  so. 

All  along  the  route  to-day  we  found  yourts 
erected  and  peopled  by  the  many  Sart  and 
Kirghiz  dignitaries  of  the  sections  hereabouts, 
waiting  for  the  passage  of  General  Jorneoff, 
who,  I  hear,  has  reached  Surfi-Kurghan.  If 
so,    we    shall     pass    him    to-morrow.      One    can 


2  40  Trans-  Caspia  : 

easily  see  that,  though  young  for  a  general, 
he  is  one  of  the  strong  arms  of  the  great  white 
Czar.  His  name,  like  all  the  other  Russian 
names,  I  have  given  as  it  is  pronounced.  It 
would,  in  fact,  be  impossible  to  do  otherwise. 

I  never  stop  for  camp  but  that  I  am  struck 
with  the  beauty  of  the  flowers  and  vines. 
Around  the  basin  of  the  brook  yonder,  they 
are  arranged  as  though  for  a  high  festival ;  and 
are  they  not?  Is  not  this  the  season  of  "high 
festival"  in  this  land?  and  the  beds  of  the 
rivers  are  the  banquet  halls.  As  I  write,  there 
are  two  impudent  black  birds  with  red  beaks 
walking  round  and  round  my  kodak,  evidently 
regarding  it  with  great  curiosity.  I  wonder 
what  they  think  of  it.  One  has  just  given  it 
a  resounding:  whack  with  his  beak,  and  both  are 
now  gone,  in  consequence  of  a  rock  sent  at  them 
in  some  irritation.  Hunters  are  so  few  and 
far  between  that  the  game  is  very  tame,  though 
for  that  matter  it  is  not  tempting  to  shoot.  I 
noticed  some  wild  dogs  this  morning,  and  we 
are  constantly  barked  at  by  the  many  marmots, 
which  are  almost  too  fat    to  waddle  out  of  our 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tjie  Czar.         241 

way.  Those,  aside  from  a  rabbit  as  big  as  a 
"Texas  jack"  and  a  solitary  eagle,  are  all  the 
game  that  I  have  seen.  One  must  go  to  the 
Pamirs  to  find  the  Ovis  Poli  (mountain  sheep) 
and  other  large  game,  and  I  am  told  that  it  is 
very  scarce  even  there. 

Rachmed  has  taken  to  opening  my  stores 
since  my  illness,  and  is  greatly  disgusted  by 
my  refusal  to  partake  of  such  canned  stuffs 
as  they  afford.  But  I  dare  not  risk  it ;  cer- 
tainly not  out  here  in  the  desert.  He  has 
just  returned  from  a  foraging  expedition  with 
a  log  of  wood,  and  is  delighted  over  the  pros- 
pect of  a  somewhat  better  fire  than  dried 
manure  generally  affords.  He  tells  me  that, 
on  his  journey  through  Thibet  with  Orleans, 
nothing  save  manure  could  ever  be  found. 
That,  thanks  to  the  passage  of  the  caravans 
of  camels  through  the  ages,  was  always  plen- 
tiful. This  is  my  last  camp  in  the  mountains 
of  the  Ali,  though  I  left  that  region  proper 
yesterday.  To-day  we  halt  at  Gulcha,  which 
is  too  low  down  to  be  called  very  mountainous. 
I    shall    lose    also    this    delicious    air,    and    shall 


242  Tra7is-  Caspia  : 

have  to  exist  in  the  heat  until  I  cross  the 
Caspian  again.  I  confess  I  dread  the  passage 
of  the  "  Sable  Noir,"  but  it  will  be  made  in 
a  good  railway  carriage,  where  I  can  take 
proper  care  of  myself.  One  can  not  but  feel 
a  regret  that  these  rippling  waters,  that  dance 
so  merrily  onward,  will  find  their  end,  not  in 
the  ocean,  but  in  the  horrid  sands  of  the  Black 
Desert,  which  all  the  waters  of  the  globe  could 
not  moisten  or  lertilize. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         243 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

ABOUT  an  hour  from  camp  we  met  the 
first  of  Jorneoff's  forces — horses  and  don- 
keys, most  of  them,  but  each  and  all  ladened 
with  the  necessaries  for  a  three  months'  tour  of 
the  Pamirs.  Then  came  the  foot  soldiers,  about 
three  hundred  in  all — Cossacks,  of  course — and 
a  ragged,  dirty-looking  lot  they  were.  No  in- 
spection in  this  department,  or  such  uniforms 
would  not  be  permitted.  They  are  supposed 
to  consist  of  black  boots,  red  trousers,  white 
jackets,  and  caps  of  linen ;  but  to-day,  including 
the  faces  and  hair  of  the  wearers,  all  were  of 
a  dust  color,  though  there  is  comparatively  no 
dust  here.  The  men  did  not  look  simply  travel- 
stained,  as  a  marching  army  must,  but  were 
dirty  with  old  dirt  and  grease.  Passing  General 
Jorneoff,  I  stopped  for  a  moment's  chat,  and  he 
kindly  carried  a  letter  to  B.,  who,  as  he  expects 
me    in    Srinagar,    may   as    well    be    informed   at 


244  Trans- Caspia  : 

"Post  Pamir"  that  I   shall  not  reach  there  this 
time. 

This  Russian  general's  fame  as  conqueror 
of  the  Pamirs  was  acquired  in  a  fashion  scarcely 
to  his  credit.  A  small  Afghan  fort,  on  Afghan 
territory,  guarded  by  a  mere  handful  of  soldiers, 
was  summoned  by  him  to  surrender ;  which  they 
very  properly  refused  to  do,  stating  that  they 
were  in  their  own  fort  and  on  their  own  terri- 
tory, that  they  had  been  ordered  to  remain, 
and  would  be  shot  if  they  disobeyed  the  order. 
Jorneoff  replied  that  they  would  be  promptly 
shot  if  they  did  not,  and  slaughtered  they  were. 
The  Russian  force  outnumbered  the  Afghans 
many  times  over,  and  it  was  a  time  of  peace. 
So,  at  least,  I  am  told  from  one  who  has  many 
friends  in  St.  Petersburg;  and  as  I  sat  this 
morning  on  my  horse  and  gazed  into  the  cold, 
cruel-lookinor  face  of  this  commander  so  beloved 
by  the  government,  I  could  well  believe  that 
he  would  allow  nothing  to  stand  long  between 
himself  and  his  advancement.  His  light  blue 
eyes  gleamed  with  a  friendly  glance  on  me, 
but    cruelty,  deep    and    awful,   lay   behind    their 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         245 

smiles.  I  could  not  but  wonder,  as  I  watched 
him  disappear  up  the  defile,  what  record  of 
blood  —  forever  unknown  to  the  world — will 
mark  the  passage  of  these  bright  summer 
months  in  the  Pamirs.  The  shooting  down 
of  another  handful  of  Afghans ;  perhaps  the 
moving  his  soldiers  rapidly  from  point  to  point 
of  that  desolate  land,  and  the  sending  of  high- 
sounding  reports  to  the  great  white  Czar,  and 
receiving  therefor  further  honors — greater  rank? 
Very  likely.  In  the  meantime,  what  is  Russia 
doing  for  the  great  cause  of  civilization  and 
enlightenment  in  these  provinces  of  Central 
Asia  ?  And  is  it  done  for  the  benefit  of  the 
people,  or  the  further  glory  of  one  man  ? 

It  is  about  twenty-five  years  since  she  laid 
her  hand  on  this  land  of  Turkistan,  and  it  is 
now  entirely  possible  to  travel  from  end  to  end 
of  it  in  safety,  both  as  to  life  and  property. 
Near  each  and  every  native  town  of  any  impor- 
tance she  has  built  a  Russian  one,  perfected 
irrigation,  planted  trees,  caused  the  wilderness 
to  "  blossom  like  the  rose."  There  are  many 
schools,  where  the  natives  are  taught  the  Rus- 


2  46  Trans-  Caspia  : 

sian  tongue.  She  has  built  a  railroad  through 
the  terrible  "  Black  Sand  Desert,"  to  the  gates 
of  the  city  of  Tamerlane,  and  is  now  surveying 
the  route  for  its  extension  as  far  as  Marorhilan. 
When  that  is  done,  that  picturesque  terror,  the 
"  tarantass,"  will  vanish  into  the  remote  regions 
between  Marghilan  and  Gulcha,  or,  rather,  be- 
tween Marghilan  and  the  other  side  of  the 
Taldek  Pass,  over  which  there  is  a  road  now 
that  could  be  easily  made  available  for  that 
national  vehicle.  At  present,  one  must  enter 
it  at  Samarkand,  and  five  days  later  he  will 
alight  at  "  Osh "  in  fragments,  having,  during 
all  the  five  hundred  versts,  envied  that  great 
two-wheeled  cart,  the  "arba,"  as  it  rolled  so 
smoothly  though  slowly  along.  My  heavy  tin 
boxes  were  split  and  cracked  and  polished 
clean  of  paint  by  the  terrible  motion,  and  my 
patience  reduced  to  like  condition  through  long 
delays  at  post-houses  and  indignation  with 
stupid  officials,  said  officials  being  all  Russians, 
no  Sarts  holding  offices  of  any  description.  In 
Osh,  I  watched  with  interest  the  higfh  court 
of  justice.     To    the    presence    of   the    governor 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar.        247 

the  suppliants  were  ushered  one  by  one.  But 
short  audiences  were  given  to  any  of  them ; 
most  were  scarcely  allowed  to  finish  what  they 
had  to  say ;  all  were  hustled  away,  generally 
carrying  "No"  as  an  answer  to  their  petitions. 
I  notice  that  in  Russia  "  No  "  is  the  invariable 
answer  to  all  things  at  /i)'st.  You  may,  if  suf- 
ficiently determined,  cause  it  to  be  changed  to 
"Yes,"  but  at  first  you  will  receive  a  decided 
"  No,"  no  matter  what  you  ask.  It  seems  to 
be  indicative  of  the  character  of  the  govern- 
ment— an  absolute  monarchy,  where  the  people, 
be  they  of  high  or  low  rank,  have  no  rights, 
where  they  have  "no  business  to  be  asking 
questions,"  or  wanting  any  thing  that  the 
Czar  does  not  accord  them  unasked ;  and  if 
they  are  discovered  thinking,  much  less  acting, 
for  themselves,  they  know  that  it  means  Si- 
beria. These  Sarts  are  cheerful-natured,  and 
take  the  ruling  of  their  western  masters  in  a 
most  philosophical  manner.  I  do  not  think 
one  of  the  entire  lot  that  day  got  what  he 
wanted.  Yet  none  seemed  greatly  to  mind  it, 
or    perhaps    they    have    early    learned    the    use- 


248  Trans- Caspia  : 

lessness  of  opposition,  Russia  has  them  by 
the  neck,  and  forces  them  to  Hve  at  peace 
with  the  world  and  each  other.  But  does  she 
do  so  for  their  own  good ;  does  she  hold  any 
good  feeling  toward  them,  or  toward  any  other 
of  her  conquered  provinces?  Is  it  not  simply 
for  the  greater  military  glory  of  the  "Czar?" 
For  the  "Czar"  is  Russia  and  Russia  is  the 
"Czar" — all  the  other  seventy  millions  of 
human  beings  are  mere  ciphers,  though  this  is 
the  nineteenth  century.  Look  at  the  treatment 
of  Poland.  It  will  answer  the  question  I  have 
asked.  Austria  and  Germany  make  but  little 
difference  in  the  government  of  their  portions 
of  that  dismembered  kingdom  from  that  which 
they  accord  to  other  sections  of  their  county. 
But  with  Russia!  If  a  man  is  a  Pole,  he  is 
accorded  much  the  same  treatment  that  "Jean 
val  Jean,"  in  Hugo's  great  work,  received  from 
the  police  of  France.  I  know  of  a  case  in 
point  to-day,  where  Russia  has  received  twenty 
years  of  faithful  service  from  a  Pole,  who  is 
as  loyal  to  the  Czar  as  any  native  born 
Russian ;    and    yet,    though    the    best    years    of 


The  Sealed  Provi7ices  of  the  Czar.         249 

his  life  have  been  passed  in  faithful  service 
to  the  crown,  he  can  never  reach  the  rank  of 
general,  but  must  stand  aside  and  watch  men 
far  his  inferior  in  every  respect  promoted  over 
his  head — and  all  because  he  is  "a  Pole!"  So, 
to  my  thinking,  it  is  and  will  be  in  Turkistan. 
Her  people  will  be  forever  made  to  feel  that 
they  are  conquered.  The  very  arrangement 
of  the  cities  must  impress  that  fact  upon  the 
natives.  At  each  and  all  of  the  great  points 
and  larger  towns,  the  native  portions  are  en- 
tirely to  themselves,  communicating  in  no  way 
with  the  Russian  portion,  and  ofttimes,  as  in 
the  case  of  Bokhara,  Tashkend,  and  Marghilan, 
three,  four,  and  even  ten  miles  separate  them. 
The  Russian  towns  are  nothing  save  military 
posts,  always  heavily  armed  and  always  on 
guard,  and  it  is  utterly  impossible  that  the 
people  of  Turkistan  should,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, feel  otherwise  than  that  they  are 
treated  as  though  in  a  vast  prison.  Such  may 
be,  in  a  measure,  necessary  with  these  tribes, 
but  such  is  the  case  throughout  all  the  vast 
extent    of   Russia's    empire,    be    it    civilized   or 


2  50  Trans-  Caspia  : 

savage.  To  these  distant  provinces  the  Czar 
sends  also,  sometimes  for  Hfe,  those  of  his 
nobles  or  his  relatives  who  have  displeased 
him,  and  whom  he  does  not  desire  to  brand  as 
convicts  by  sending  to  Siberia.  Tashkend  is 
full  of  such,  and  is  called  the  capital  of  the 
banished. 

But,  for  the  matter  of  that,  it  is  not  so  much 
better  for  a  native  born  Russian.  He  will,  it 
is  true,  receive  advancement  before  all  others, 
up  to  a  certain  point ;  but  each  rank  cowers 
before  the  one  above  it,  and  all  tremble  before 
the  Czar;  and  by  the  "Czar"  I  do  not  mean 
the  man,  but  the  office,  to  which  Alexander  III 
is  as  great  a  slave  as  any  of  his  empire. 
Seventy  millions  of  automatons,  who  think  and 
move,  and  have  almost  their  being,  through  the 
will  of  one  man.  What  comparisons  one  of  an- 
other nation — knowing  India — is  forced  to  make 
as  he  journeys  through  Turkistan !  True,  it  is, 
perhaps,  unfair  to  make  such  comparison  where 
the  one  nation  has  held  control  for  more  than 
a  century  and  the  other  not  one-fourth  so  long; 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         251 

but  remember  Poland,  and  judge  the  future  for 
Turkistan  by  Poland's  past.  The  world  will 
never  be  shocked  by  such  tales  of  cruelty  in 
the  case  of  the  Asiatic  country,  because  she  is 
Asiatic  and  will  stand  more  oppression. 

What  would  be  the  condition  of  India  at  pres- 
ent had  she — in  1857 — been  under  the  dominion 
of  Russia  and  risen  in  mutiny  against  the  Czar? 
Would  you  find,  as  does  the  traveler  of  to-day 
in  that  land  of  the  sun,  every  office  in  the  hands 
of  the  people  that  can  be  placed  there?  Would 
you,  entering  the  great  banks,  railway  offices, 
custom  houses,  etc.,  find  them,  as  you  now  do, 
all  in  native  hands?  Would  you  find  regiment 
after  regiment  of  native  soldiers  ?  Would  you 
find  any  one  save  Russians,  Russians,  Russians, 
with  the  people  of  the  land  crushed  down  and 
out  of  sight  ?  Even  the  terrible  mutiny  only 
caused  England  to  give  the  people  more  liberty. 
Would  it  have  been  so  under  Russia?  Russia 
feels  very  bitterly  about  the  articles  that  have 
appeared  concerning  her  in  the  press  of  the 
world — notably  those  by  Kennan,  because  they 
come  from  an  American.      She  has  always  been 


252  Trans-  Caspia  : 

most  friendly  toward  that  people,  and  I  fancy 
that  "America"  is  most  friendly  toward  her; 
but  until  she  wheels  into  line  with  the  other 
great  nations  of  the  earth  in  the  matter  of 
progress  and  enlightenment,  until  she  leaves 
the  midnight  of  the  sixteenth  century  for  the 
daylight  of  this  nineteenth,  she  can  not  ex- 
pect the  enlightened  nations  of  the  earth  to 
hold  great  sympathy  for  her,  much  less  that 
western  land,  which  for  one  of  its  mottoes  takes 
those  immortal  words,  "  with  the  people,  by  the 
people,  and  for  the  people." 

Jorneoff's  baggage  train  was  immense,  and 
I  warrant  that  he  travels  with  all  luxury.  No 
simple  rice  night  after  night,  because  he  can 
not  eat  mutton  eternally.  Nor  would  there 
have  been  for  me,  had  I  in  any  way  understood 
the  resources,  or  lack  thereof,  of  the  land.  On 
another  trip  things  would  be  very  different. 
I  have  roughed  it  for  weeks  in  our  Rockies 
and  elsewhere,  and  certainly  think  I  can  get 
on  with  as  little  as  most  men  ;  but  there  are 
few  who  can  exist,  as  the  Kirghiz  do,  on  tea 
and    tough    mutton.       In     our    mountains,    one 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czar 


-DJ 


always  has  fresh  game  of  some  sort,  and  I 
warrant  there  is  not  a  ranch  in  the  whole  land 
but  can  give  you  one  ham  at  all  times,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  other  meats.  With  those  things 
properly  cooked — and  what  guide  at  home  can 
not  cook? — one  can  get  on  very  well.  But 
after  a  long  and  hot  day's  ride,  to  know  that 
nothinpf  save  the  eternal  mutton  and  tea  await 
one,  is  more  than  most  well  men  can  endure 
for  a  protracted  period.  You  will  ask  why 
I  do  not  use  the  stores  I  possess.  I  do  so 
wherever  I  can,  but  what  are  they?  A  bag 
of  Sart  bread  that  an  ax  will  not  cut,  and 
which  must  be  soaked  in  hot  water  in  order 
to  be  used  at  all — yet  it  is  all  that  you  can 
procure,  and  you  must  bring  that  from  Osh ; 
then  some  boxes  of  semi-sweet  crackers,  a 
cake  of  soup,  some  gingersnaps,  a  few  cans 
of  sardines  and  venison — all  of  which  are  most 
ancient,  to  say  the  least.  You  can  also  pur- 
chase chocolates  and  sweetmeats,  but  one  can 
not  live  on  such  things. 

While   I   am  on  this  subject,  it  would  perhaps 
be  well  to  give  a  word  of  advise  to  those  who 


2  54  Ti'aiis-  Caspia  : 

may  follow,  and  also  a  short  explanation  of 
the  tours.  As  for  the  season,  one  should  leave 
Osh  not  later  than  June  ist.  That  will  make 
the  journey  over  the  desert  quite  pleasant.  I 
do  not  consider  a  journey  to  St.  Petersburg 
as  at  all  necessary.  If  you  go  to  Odessa  and 
send  your  passports  to  the  capital,  our  min- 
ister can  do  it  all  without  your  aid.  Then, 
when  you  are  assured  that  your  permission  has 
been  granted,  telegraph  yourself  to  the  gov- 
ernor of  Askhabad,  and  ask  whether  you  will 
be  permitted  to  enter  at  Usin-ada.  Remember 
the  three  Americans  who  were  turned  back 
this  year,  notwithstanding  their  permission. 
Pay  three  prices  for  your  telegram,  and  also  for 
the  response.  In  such  cases  your  message  is 
given  precedence  over  all  others,  and  you  will 
receive  your  reply  in  a  few  hours.  If  it  is 
favorable,  then  go  ahead ;  and  if  the  police 
at  Usin-ada  refuse  you  an  entrance,  just  show 
that  telegram,  as  I  did,  and  demand  that  they 
wire  at  once  to  Askhabad.  That  will  force 
their  hands.  They  are  simply  trying  to  bluff 
you,    as    they    did    in    my  case.     You    have    all 


The  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         255 

day  in  which  to  do  this.  Once  on  the  train, 
there  will  be  no  more  trouble  ;  and  if  you  take 
the  precaution  to  procure  some  letters  of  intro- 
duction (and  even  if  not),  you  will  be  treated 
with  a  hospitality — by  the  powers  that  rule — 
to  which  you  are  unaccustomed  at  home,  no 
matter  where  you  live.  I  do  not  mean  in 
splendor — Turkistan  is  too  remote  for  that — 
but,  a  hospitality  in  which  one  feels  that 
with  the  bread  and  salt  is  also  given  a  true 
and  warm  welcome.  Witness  that  extended 
to  B.  and  myself,  who  certainly  had  no  claim 
upon  him,  by  Colonel  Grombschefsky  at  Osh. 
He  was  indeed  a  good  Samaritan,  and  I  have 
no  doubt,  when  I  reach  there  again  day  after 
to-morrow,  but  that  his  hand,  his  heart,  and 
his  table  will  be  open  and  at  my  service.  So 
much  for  getting  into  the  land.  Now  for  the 
route. 

The  most  direct  is  via  Odessa,  Batoum,  and 
Baku,  unless  one  happens  to  be  in  St.  Peters- 
burg, when  the  shorter  route  is  via  Petrovsky 
and  thence  to  Usin-ada.  Your  provisions  and 
luggage  for  Turkistan  can  be  sent  by  sea  direct 


256  Tra  ns-  Caspia  : 

from  New  York  to  Batoum,  and  I  strongly 
recommend  a  supply  of  the  former  from  Park 
&  Tilford's.  There  is  a  peculiar  prejudice 
against  all  canned  goods  in  Russia,  and  you 
will  find,  unless  you  take  them  with  you,  which 
will  cost  but  little,  that  you  will  suffer  from  the 
lack  thereof.  I  do  not  mean  luxuries  or  fancy 
articles,  but  vegetables,  and  all  good  canned 
meats,  fish,  cured  hams  and  tongues ;  also 
canned  fruits.  You  can  get  none  of  these  in 
Turkistan.  We  did  find  a  few  cans  of  salmon 
and  venison,  but  of  inferior  make,  often  spoiled, 
always  greasy.  In  the  mountains  and  on  the 
plains,  you  will  find  absolutely  nothing  save 
mutton  and  tea.  As  for  clothing,  you  will  need 
both  light  and  heavy.  If  you  go  to  the  Pamirs, 
a  fur-lined  overcoat  suitable  for  the  purpose 
can  be  purchased  very  cheaply  at  Osh ;  and 
at  Samarkand,  all  the  blankets  and  heavy  cov- 
ering one  may  need.  There  is  no  trouble 
about  the  very  necessary  cognac  until  you  reach 
Kashgar.  It  is  always  on  hand  in  every  Rus- 
sian town.  Of  course,  if  you  are  going  on  such 
a  tour  as  our  countrymen  from  St.  Louis  made 


TJie  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czai\         257 

on  their  bicycles,  you  can  take  nothing,  and 
must  j3ut  up  with  what  the  countries  afford ; 
but  I  see  no  merit  in  depriving  oneself  of  the 
necessities  of  life  when  there  is  absolutely  no 
need  for  so  doing,  and  when  they  can  be 
carried  so  cheaply. 


258  Trans-  Caspia  : 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

Langar. 

AT  Akbosoga,  I  learn  to  my  sorrow  that 
Colonel  Grombschefsky  is  en  route  to  the 
mountains  to  inspect  the  roads,  etc.  This  is 
bad  news  for  me,  as  Osh  is  nothing  without 
him.  I  had  looked  forward  to  the  meetinof 
with  much  pleasure,  but  as  matters  turned  out, 
was  not  doomed  to  entire  disappointment.  As 
I  descended  the  last  pass  to  this  place,  Langar, 
I  found  him  asleep  in  his  yourt,  and  his  numer- 
ous attendants  occupied  in  like  manner  outside. 
He  did  what  he  could,  and  it  was  a  great  deal, 
to  m.ake  my  visit  to  Osh  pleasant.  He  sent 
me  direct  to  the  "  Club,"  so  that  a  repetition 
of  that  post-house  visit  was  avoided. 

I  can  not  but  wish  that  Colonel  Grombschef- 
sky was  giving  the  best  years  of  his  life  to  some 
other  government.  I  discovered,  though  not 
from  himself,  that  he  is  a  Pole.  He  is  one  of 
the  finest  specimens  of  manhood  and  of  a  soldier 


The  Sealed  Pi^ovinces  of  the  Czai'.         259 

that  I  have  ever  met  with,  and  is  faithful  to 
Russia  in  every  thought  and  feehng,  and  would 
add  luster  to  her  name  of  an  enduring  quality. 
Russia  does  not  deserve  the  loyalty  of  his 
silence.  I  bade  him  farewell  with  regret,  and 
turned  again  and  again  to  wave  an  adieu  and 
watch  his  white  coat  as  it  vanished  into  a  mere 
speck  in  the  distant  landscape.  What  does  he 
think  of  it  himself,  I  wonder.  The  best  years 
of  his  life  to  a  government  that  will  never 
reward  him,  that  has  kept  him  forever  exiled 
to  this  remote  land,  that  will  promptly  forget 
him  once  his  usefulness  is  gone !  Like  a  sucked 
orange,  he  will  be  tossed  into  a  corner — "  only 
a  Pole!" 

I  learn  that  the  Czar  would  greatly  like  to 
visit  Turkistan,  but  that,  as  his  visit  would  cost 
some  two  million  roubles,  he  dare  not  squander 
that  amount. 

Upon  arrival  at  Osh,  I  found  comfortable 
quarters  at  the  Club,  but  the  emptiness  and 
loneliness  thereof  was  something  appalling. 
Numbers  of  rooms,  saloons,  billiard  and  dancing 
halls,  and  a  theater,  but  no  one  to  occupy  them 


26o  Trans- Caspia  : 

save  myself  and  one  officer,  who  sleeps  all 
day.  The  town  is  as  lonely  as  the  Club. 
You  may  walk  her  streets  for  hours  and  see 
no  one  save  some  pale-faced  women  staring  at 
you  through  the  dusty  panes  of  some  window. 
I  find  even  my  fat  hostess  at  the  post-house 
has  vanished — "been  turned  out."  So  I  make 
speed  to  get  away  eastward,  though  it  is  with 
great  regret  that  I  leave  the  cool  winds  of  the 
mountains  for  the  hot  plains  below.  Our  taran- 
tass  we  sold,  and  it  has  been  resold  and  is 
gone ;  so  I  am  forced  to  take  one  from  the 
post  as  far  as  Marghilan,  one  hundred  versts. 
The  vehicle  is  horrible  and  the  ride  appalling. 
The  less  said  about  it  the  better. 

At  Marghilan,  I  met  a  different  sort  of 
Russian  from  Colonel  Grombschefsky — in  fact, 
one  of  the  usual  sort ;  one  who  insisted  that 
I  use  his  tarantass  and  not  buy  one,  that  I 
would  be  given  special  permission  for  horses, 
etc.  I  was  quite  overwhelmed  and  knew  not 
how  to  express  my  thanks,  especially  for  the 
latter,  considering  my  weak  condition.  I  might 
have  saved  myself  any  surplus  of  gratitude.      In 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         261 

less  than  an  hour  he  arrived  at  my  hotel  and 
withdrew  every  thing.  "  His  wife  had  promised 
the  tarantass;"  specials  "were  not  necessary." 
In  other  words,  like  most  of  his  nation,  he  was 
all  promise  and  no  performance — lip  service. 
I  speedily  secured  the  services  of  the  hotel 
keeper  and  started  out  to  buy  a  tarantass, 
which  I  succeeded  in  doing  very  shortly.  Of 
course,  the  Sart,  knowing  my  necessity,  made 
me  pay  for  it,  but  the  very  high  charge  of 
seventy-five  roubles  ($37.50)  had  to  be  endured. 
Two  hours  were  needed  to  put  it  in  condition, 
but  by  5  P.  M.  I  was  rattling  through  the  streets 
of  Marghilan,  having  bade  farewell  to  the  little 
policeman  who  spoke  such  good  English  and 
desired  so  greatly  to  come  with  me.  Early 
in  life  he  had  ran  away  to  sea.  and,  landing  in 
Halifax,  learned  our  tongue,  a  fact  which  makes 
him  constantly  an  object  of  suspicion  to  his 
governor.  I  telegraphed  to  this  governor  of 
Marghilan  from  Osh,  asking  if  I  might  take 
the  youth  through  to  Srinagar  with  me.  The 
result  was,  to  me,  a  curt  refusal,  and  to  him, 
a  threatened  arrest.      Why,  is  more  than   I  can 


262  Trans-  Caspia  : 

tell.  So  he  can  not  come  now,  and  watches 
me  wistfully  as  I  roll  away  to  the  outer  world, 
to  that  freedom  whose  very  meaning  is  unknown 
in   Russia. 

July  19th. 
Two  stages  of  thirty-two  versts  only,  and 
I  stick  for  nine  hours,  because  there  are  no 
horses.  So  I  settle  in  my  tarantass  and  am 
soon  deep  in  slumber.  It  is  raining  this  morn- 
ing, a  thing  almost  unknown  in  Turkistan  in 
summer,  I  have  been  singularly  fortunate  in 
the  matter  of  weather.  It  has  been  cool  and 
cloudy,  and  if  this  continues  I  shall  not  have 
a  hard  ride  over  the  numerous  deserts  between 
here  and  the  Caspian  Sea. 

KojEND,  July  2 1  St. 
The  good  weather,  i.  e.,  clouds  and  showers, 
is  still  with  me.  All  day  yesterday  was  cloudy, 
with  light  showers,  which  at  night  increased 
to  a  heavy  rain,  and  by  midnight,  when  we 
reached  Kojend,  its  downpour  was  so  steady 
that  I  was  forced,  on  Rachmed's  account — he 
rides  outside — to  lay  over  for  four  hours.     To- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         26 


o 


day  opens  cloudy,  and  this  usual  furnace  is  cool 
and  pleasant.  The  entire  ride  from  Kojend 
to  Jisak  is  a  pleasant  one,  and  very  far  more 
interesting  than  that  via  Tashkend,  One  is 
on  the  first  rise  of  the  mountains  all  the  way, 
and  thereby  avoids  the  desert  entirely. 

Good  luck  in  the  matter  of  weather  deserts 
us  at  Jisak.  We  reach  there  at  4  p.  m.,  only 
to  find  every  thing  held  in  abeyance  for  the 
passage  of  the  post.  I  wish  I  could  in  any 
way  or  degree  make  you  understand  the  terrible 
filth  and  dirt  of  these  Turkistan  post-houses. 
This  one  at  Jisak  rivals  the  others.  Imagine 
an  inclosure  of  mud  walls  some  hundreds  of 
feet  in  extent,  on  one  side  the  stalls,  on  the 
other  the  post-house,  which  is  generally  a  low, 
white  structure,  full  of  filth  and  flies.  The 
square  itself  is  a  mass  of  accumulated  manure, 
bits  of  harness,  broken-down  tarantasses,  mangy 
dogs,  and  what  appear  to  be  bundles  of  rags, 
that  may  at  one  time  have  served  as  bed- 
ding. Nothing  human  in  sight  at  first,  but  a 
vigorous  calling  evolves  these  bundles  of  rags 
into  men  and  women   and  many  children.     Out 


264  Trails-  Caspia  : 

of  one  of  them  comes  the  postman  and  his  wife, 
not  so  much  ragged  as  utterly  vile  with  old 
filth.  They  have  simply  brought  out  an  old 
comforter,  and,  dropping  it  any  place,  on  filth 
or  otherwise,  gone  sound  asleep.  As  to  intel- 
lect, they  are  but  little  above  the  dogs  that 
sleep  on  top  of  them.  It  would  not  be  possible 
for  such  a  state  of  degradation  to  be  found  in 
our  country,  even  amongst  the  lowest  negroes. 
In  the  midst  of  such  vileness  we  were  forced 
to  wait  for  hours.  I  tried  my  best  to  bribe 
the  postman — even  got  him  gloriously  drunk, 
he  and  a  crazy  Jew  merchant,  who  tried  to 
make  me  drink  his  tea — but  all  to  no  effect. 
It  was  five  hours  before  we  got  off,  only  to 
be  shortly  enveloped  in  such  clouds  of  dust 
that  my  driver  was  forced  to  slow  up  now  and 
then,   like  a  ship  in  a  fog. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Jisak,  the  road  enters 
the  narrow  defile  of  Jitan-uti,  supposed  to  be 
greatly  infested  with  serpents.  Through  it,  in 
days  of  old,  the  hordes  of  Mongol  and  Turkish 
savages  obtained  access  to  the  fertile  valley 
of  the  Zarafshan  ;   and  high  on  the  right,  where 


The  Sealed  Provmces  of  the  Czar.         265 

the  defile  is  narrowed,  one  sees  the  so-called 
Tablets  of  Tamerlane,  though  neither  of  them 
bears    the    name    of    that    conqueror.      One    is 


A  iTTrRE   Post   Driver. 


shaped  like  an  old-fashioned  headstone,  round 
at  the  top,  while  the  other  is  square.  The 
inscriptions    are    in     Persian,    and     state     that : 


266  Trans-  Caspia  : 

"  With  the  help  of  God  the  Lord,  the  great 
Sultan,  conqueror  of  kings  and  nations,  shadow 
of  God  on  earth,  the  support  of  the  decisions 
of  the  Sunna  and  of  the  divine  law,  the  ruler 
and  aid  of  the  faith,  Ulug  Bek  Gurugan — 
may  God  prolong  the  time  of  his  reign  and 
rule ! — undertook  a  campaign  into  the  country 
of  the  Mongols,  and  returned  from  this  nation 
and  these  countries  uninjured,  in  the  year  828 
(a.  d.  1425)." 

The  Ulug  Bek  mentioned  was  grandson  to 
Tamerlane,  and  the  founder  of  Samarkand's 
observatories  and  colleges.  The  second  in- 
scription is  of  the  victory  of  Abdullah  Khan, 
a  century  and  a  half  later:  "Let  passers  in 
the  waste  and  travelers  on  land  and  water 
know,  that  in  the  year  979  (a.  d.  1571),  there 
was  a  conflict  between  the  army  of  the  lieu- 
tenant of  the  Khalefate,  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty,  the  great  Khakan  Abdullah  Khan, 
son  of  Iskinder  Khan,  consisting  of  thirty  thou- 
sand men  of  war,  and  the  army  of  Dervish 
Khan  and  Baba  Khan  and  other  sons  of  Barak 
Khan.      In  this    army  there  were    fifty  relatives 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         267 

of  the  Sultan  and  four  hundred  thousand  fio-ht- 
ing  men  from  Turkistan,  Tashkend,  Ferghana, 
and  Deshia  Keptchak.  The  army  of  the  Sov- 
ereign, by  the  fortunate  conjunction  of  the  stars, 
gained  the  victory,  having  conquered  the  above 
mentioned  Sukans,  and  gave  to  death  so  many 
of  them  that,  from  the  people  who  were  killed 
in  the  fight  and  after  being  taken  prisoners, 
during  the  course  of  one  month,  blood  ran  on 
the  surface  of  this  river  to  Jizakh.  Let  this 
be  known." 

One  can  not  but  feel  that  all  that  had  and 
still  has  something  to  do  with  the  present  filth 
of  Jisak ;  and  I  do  not  altogether  object  to 
these  clouds  of  dust,  as  they  shut  out  my  last 
view  of  the  filthy  place.  The  native  tribes  of 
these  eastern  countries  are  dirty  enough,  but 
plant  amongst  them  a  low  type  of  our  much- 
vaunted  civilization,  and  it  will  soon  outdo  the 
sons  of  the  soil  in  the  matter  of  filth.  It  may, 
perhaps,  seem  worse  in  the  Europeans,  because, 
knowing  that  they  know  better,  we  therefore 
expect  more  of  them.  At  all  events,  I  should 
prefer  to    pass    the    night    in    an  Arab  khan  to 


268  Trans-  Caspia  : 

spending  it  as  they  do,  down  in  the  filth  of  a 
stable-yard.  Let  us  leave  them.  Even  as  I 
write,  the  dust  lifts,  and  the  snowy  peaks  beyond 
Samarkand  sparkle  in  the  sunlight.  There,  I 
know,  are  green  trees,  rushing  waters,  eternal 
freshness — thanks  to  the  orold  of  the  Zarafshan. 
There,  also,  is  the  conceited  little  post-master, 
who  takes  such  an  interest  in  my  mails  that  I 
know  I  only  receive  about  half  that  arrive. 
There,  again,  I  shall  hear  English,  when  I  meet 
the  good  M.  Letellier  (though  it  will  be  funny 
English).  There,  are  some  Russians  who  were 
very  good  to  us  on  our  way  out.  There  I  shall 
find  Madam  Metzler;  and  last,  but  not  least, 
in  her  comfortable  "inn,"  shall  find  a  "warmest 
welcome"  in  a  hot  bath.  Have  you  ever  trav- 
eled day  and  night  for  a  week  in  a  tarantass? 
Have  you  ever  been  forced  to  make  examination 
as  to  whether  or  not  your  bones  were  coming 
through  your  corduroys?  If  not,  you  can  in 
no  way  understand  the  delight  that  latter  pros- 
pect was  to  me,  emerging  from  such  a  ride. 
Still,  one  learns  to  adapt  oneself  to  every  situ- 
ation,  and    I    have    slept    soundly  many  nights. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Cza7'.         269 

while  my  horses  plunged  wildly  onward  over 
these  deserts,  rocking  and  swaying  my  vehicle 
until,  had  I  not  been  deeply  imbedded  therein,  I 
should  certainly  have  been  thrown  out.  I  awoke 
last  night — it  was  bright  moonlight — to  find 
the  horses  apparently  running  away,  and  Rach- 
med  violently  belaboring  the  driver.  Without 
waiting  to  inquire  into  the  cause,  I  joined  him 
in  his  work.  He  shook  and  I  pummeled,  with 
my  cap,  the  stolid  coachman,  who  held  firmly 
to  his  lines  and  appeared  to  mind  us  not  one 
whit.  Rachmed  gasped  out,  between  attacks : 
"We  are  lost!  lost!"  Those  were  the  Famished 
Steppes,  where  next  day  the  heat  would  mount 
to  one  hundred  and  thirty  and  upward!  What 
were  we  to  do?  Away  on  all  sides  stretched 
the  dead  level.  Over  its  surface  the  moonlight 
played  strange  pranks,  with  sage  bushes  with- 
ered and  skeleton-like  through  the  awful  heat  by 
day.  Solitary  turtles  made  stately  progress,  like 
huge  black  roaches,  toward  the  horizon.  The 
misty  shadows  chased  each  other  like  Tam 
O'Shanter's  witches,  and  over  all  and  through 
all  there  was  such  dead  silence.     Rachmed  went 


2  70  Trans-  Caspia  : 

off  with  the  driver  and  one  horse  to  search  for 
the  road,  and  I,  alone  in  the  tarantass  in  the 
midst  of  that  desolation,  wondered  what  the 
outcome  would  be,  and  wondering,  passed  into 
dreamland,  where  I  was  soon  surrounded  by  the 
phantom  men  and  beasts,  wolves  and  savages 
that  have  swept  those  plains  for  centuries,  and 
with  all  of  whom  Rachmed  seemed  fighting  in 
my  defense.  Then  I  awoke  at  Jisak,  and  the 
morning  of  my  last  day's  ride  in  a  tarantass. 

Later  in  the  day,  the  road  became  so  rough 
that  twice  the  tarantass  broke  down.  Finally, 
when  I  thought,  on  seeing  the  last  post  before 
Samarkand,  come  into  view,  that  our  woes  were 
over,  I  found  such  a  crowd  of  waiting  taran- 
tasses  that  all  hope  of  progress  for  at  least 
twenty-four  hours  was  gone.  It  was  simply 
impossible  to  stay  there.  There  was  not  even 
a  dirty  spot  on  which  to  sit  down,  and  absolutely 
no  chance  of  any  thing  to  eat.  Summoning 
Rachmed,  I  told  him  to  get  a  horse  at  any 
price,  and  I  would  ride  into  Samarkand,  and  he 
could  follow  when  he  could.  He  succeeded  in 
his  quest,  and   I   shortly  found  myself  en  route. 


The  Sealed  Pi'ovinces  of  ike  Czar.  271 

in  company  with  some  dozens  of  Sarts,  each 
and  every  one  of  whom  considered  it  his  special 
duty  to  see  that  I  got  on  all  right.  When  the 
Zarafshan  River  was  reached,  they  would  have 
insisted  that  I  dismount  and  enter  one  of  the 
great,  lumbering  arbas  for  the  passage ;  but, 
shaking  them  off,  I  pushed  on  and  made  the 
passage  ahead  of  the  lot,  which  secured  me 
their  intense  admiration.  It  was  nearly  nine 
o'clock  when  I  dismounted  at  Hotel  Metzler, 
where  I  found  a  welcome,  bed,  bath,  and  dinner, 
and  which  five  nights  in  my  tarantass  enabled 
me  to  fully  appreciate.  As  for  the  clothing 
that  I  stripped  off  that  night,  from  hat  to  shoes, 
I  never  saw  it  again.  My  vehicle  arrived,  in 
charge  of  Rachmed,  before  10  a.  m.,  and  in 
a  short  time  I  was  offered  twenty  roubles  for 
it.  It  cost  seventy-five.  I  declined  the  offer, 
and  left  it  in  Madam's  hands,  to  be  disposed 
of  as  she  thought  best.  I  have  just  heard 
(September)  that  it  is  still  "for  sale,"  and  will 
be  until  I  return  to  Central  Asia,  I  fancy. 

Samarkand    was    very    attractive,    and    I    was 
greatly    tempted    to    linger.       It    was    cool    and 


272  Trans-  Caspia  : 

deliofhtful,  and  the  fruits  were  at  their  best. 
I  never  saw  finer  melons,  grapes,  apricots, 
apples,  plums,  or  peaches ;  and  I  fancy,  from 
what  I  hear,  that  though  Turkistan  may  fail 
in  many  ways,  she  more  than  holds  her  own 
in  regard  to  fruit.  But  all  the  fruit  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden  could  not  have  kept  me  from 
a  start  homeward  in  the  train  that  left  at 
8  p.  M.,  especially  as  I  found  I  would  have  an 
American  for  a  companion  as  far  as  Askhabad. 
Even  the  prospect  of  great  heat  in  the  desert 
was  ignored,  and  I  started  once  more  westward. 
Madam  again  was  ''desolej'  and  gave  me  two 
small  chickens  as  a  parting  gift.  Rachmed  did 
not  demand  more  than  his  wages,  and  seemed 
deeply  grateful  for  the  small  present  I  gave 
him.  I  also  gave  him  a  note  of  commendation, 
but  said  very  little  therein,  simply  stating  that 
he  was  sober,  honest,  and  faithful  ;  and  that  he 
was  a  good  guide  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
I  would  not  say  that  I  thought  he  was  stupid, 
as  those  who  will  employ  him  will  discover. 
He  has  been  made  intensely  conceited  by 
having  been  brought  so  prominently  before  the 


TJie  Sealed  Pi'oviiiccs  of  the  Czar.        273 

world  in  his  trips  with  famous  people,  and 
charges  for  said  fame.  I  paid  him  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  roubles  per  month,  which  was 
double  his  worth.  He  would  be  a  good  under- 
servant  in  a  camp,  but  that  is  all  ;  and  he  seems 
to  possess  absolutely  no  memory — your  orders 
must  be  reiterated  each  day.  But  enough  of 
Rachmed.  He  was  very  kind  during  my  ill- 
ness,  and  for  that  I   am  deeply  grateful. 


2  74  Trans- Caspia: 


CHAPTER    XX. 

July   24th. 

ANY  thing  that  moves  by  steam  is  marvelous 
to  one  after  the  slower  tarantass  ;  and  how 
luxuriously  smooth  and  comfortable  these  old, 
worn-out  carriages  appear!  What  a  superb 
affair  that  whitewashed  freight  car  that  does 
duty  as  a  dining  car!  One  could  travel  to 
Cape  Horn  with  such  comforts.  Surely,  all 
things  are  comparative  ;  at  least  it  would  seem 
so  here,  as  I  look  back  at  my  first  impression 
of  this  same  train.  It  is  cool  enough  at  nigrht, 
and,  though  in  our  passage  of  the  desert  the 
thermometer  mounts,  in  the  car,  to  one  hundred 
and  ten  (Fahr.),  I  do  not  feel  it  nearly  so  much 
as  I  have  done  eighty  or  ninety  on  a  murky  day 
at  home,  so  perfectly  dry  and  healthy  is  the  air. 
On  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  we  pass 
the  ruins  of  ancient  Merve,  sharply  and  fantas- 
tically outlined  against  the  "  crimson  glow  of 
evening." 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         275 

Merve  was  old  in  the  days  of  Darius.  She  was 
a  colony  of  Alexander  and  a  Parthian  province. 
Also  a  Christian  bishopric  in  a.  d.  200.  Here  the 
veiled  prophet  of  Khorasan  kindled  the  fumes 
of  schism  in  the  eighth  century.  Jenghiz  Khan 
passed  through  it  like  a  flaming  sword,  and 
Russia  wiped  it  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Old  Merve  has  been  thrice  destroyed  by 
conquering  armies,  but  has  never,  as  I  was 
erroneously  informed,  been  buried  in  the  sand. 
It  is  clear  of  sand  now.  New  Merve  is  an  hour 
away  by  train  and  on  the  river.  I  notice  many 
of  those  quaint-looking  little  towers  of  defense 
here  and  there  over  the  desert.  Built  of  mud, 
they  are  high  enough  to  hold  a  man  standing 
upright,  and  have  no  entrance  save  a  hole  near 
the  base,  through  which  the  occupant  crawls. 
He  is  supplied  with  rocks  inside  to  close  the 
entrance,  and  for  use  as  weapons,  and  when 
once  inside  is  comparatively  safe,  as  the  sun 
turns  the  mud  almost  to  stone.  These  plains 
of  Turkistan  are  dotted  with  ruined  cities.  We 
are   passing   another,   quite  as  extensive  as   old 


276  Trans- Caspia  : 

Merve,  and  with  several  very  stately  mosques 
rising  above  the  general  ruin. 

Askhabad  is  reached  at  noon  the  second  day, 
and  here  I  lose  my  companion.  Around  the 
place  will  forever  hang  the  memory  of  that 
terrible  visitation  of  cholera,  three  years  since. 
Some  of  the  scenes,  though  terrible,  were  ro- 
mantic, and  one  could  have  been  taken  as  the 
oricrinal   of   Poe's   "  Mask  of   the    Red    Death." 

o 

The  pestilence  was  supposed  to  have  passed 
on  its  way,  after  leaving  its  five  thousand  dead. 
General  Kuropatkine,  in  very  desperation  at 
the  terrible  gloom,  concluded  to  give  a  banquet. 
Gay  was  the  event,  but  before  another  sun 
had  set  nearly  every  soul  who  had  attended 
was  dead.  The  cholera  had  returned,  and  each 
and  all,  from  the  highest  guest  to  the  most 
humble  musician,  had  bowed  before  its  awful 
presence. 

Askhabad  is  a  modern  Russian  town  of  no 
special  interest,  but  I  notice  some  miles  to  the 
eastward  an  entire  city,  walled  and  almost 
perfect,    but     silent     and     deserted.       Above     it 


The  Scaled  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         277 

rise  the  arches  of   a  great   ruined   mosque,   but 
human  Hte  has  left  it  long  ago. 

It  is  with  a  feeling  of  great  relief  that  I 
catch  sight  of  the  first  waters  of  the  Caspian, 
and  the  little  ship  that  receives  me  at  Usin-ada 
seems  a  haven  of  rest.  Usin-ada  is  situated 
in  an  arm  of  the  Black  Desert,  which  here 
stretches  its  claws  outward  toward  the  sea  itself. 
They  say  that  Russia  has  plans  for  a  vast 
scheme,  if  she  ever  has  the  money  therefor. 
She  hopes,  by  the  union  of  two  rivers  to  the 
north  of  the  Caucasus,  to  unite  the  Black  Sea 
and  the  Caspian,  and,  as  the  latter  is  eighty- 
five  feet  lower  than  the  former,  to  introduce 
such  floods  of  water  that  all  the  Caspian  and 
the  region  round  about  wall  be  covered  by  the 
excess  thereof,  and  which  must  steadily  rise 
until  the  level  of  the  Black  Sea  be  reached. 
Where  are  now  useless  deserts  will  then  be 
a  vast  inland  sea,  which  will  change  the  entire 
climate  of  Turkistan,  enabling  the  people  to 
raise  vast  quantities  of  cotton,  and  so  shut  out 
our  markets,  etc.  But  Russia  has  not  the 
money,   even   if   it  could  be  done  ;    and   I    think 


278  Trans-  Caspia  : 

it  is  all  talk,  as  by  such  a  change  the  entire 
oil  regions  would  be  destroyed,  and  the  empire 
lose  the  source  of  its  greatest  wealth.  There- 
fore, Turkistan  will  remain  a  vast  desert,  backed 
by  a  towering  range  of  mountains ;  in  the  former, 
a  few  oases,  where  a  man  may  live;  in  the  latter, 
a  high,  cold  valley,  accessible  only  for  the  brief 
summer  months;  the  whole  governed  by  a  power 
that  does  all  for  the  glory  of  the  Czar,  and  little 
for  the  advancement  of  the  people. 

And  so,  as  I  watch  the  yellow  shores  of 
Turkistan  sink  below  the  level  of  the  blue 
Caspian,  I  can  not  but  feel  that  her  future  is 
a  very  dark  one  so  long  as  she  is  ruled  over 
by  the  great  white  Czar;  and  by  the  "Czar" 
I  mean  the  office,*  not  the  man.  Alexander, 
like  all  his  predecessors  of  this  century,  is  a 
man  of  advanced  ideas,  though  he  is  not  an 
intellectual  man  ;  but  he  is  bound  as  in  bands 
of  steel  by  the  traditions  of  the  empire. 

As  I  look  back  over  the  tour,  it  has  been 
a  satisfactory  one,  notwithstanding  the  great 
disappointment  of  not  getting  through  to  Cash- 
mere.     However,   I    have   seen   the  best  at  this 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         279 

end,  and  shall  see  the  other  at  some  future 
day.  As  for  Kashgar,  Yarkand,  and  the  Devil 
Desert  which  joins  them,  I  feel  no  regret  at 
missing,  nor  shall  I  ever  attempt  to  see  them. 
They  are  simply  two  more  Sart  towns,  and 
not  Chinese  at  all,  and  of  Sart  towns  I  have 
had  my  fill.  To  Samarkand  I  award  the  prize 
for  interest  and  beauty  above  all  others.  It 
alone  possesses  extensive  remains  of  the  past. 
Its  climate  is  fine,  and  there  is  a  charm  pecu- 
liarly its  own  which  one  can  not  describe. 
Tashkend  is  devoid  of  interest,  save  as  the 
military  head-quarters.  If  you  prize  "a  dinner 
with  the  governor-general,"  you  must  go  there 
to  oret  it.  I  do  not.  As  to  Bokhara,  it  is 
interesting  as  your  first  Sart  city.  Its  mosque 
is  unique.  I  have  been  asked  whether  I  did 
not  consider  that  it  possessed  a  ''cachet"  of 
its  own.  No;  most  certainly  I  did  not.  It  is 
greatly  like  the  inferior  portions  of  many  other 
oriental  cities,  and  Sart  Tashkend  and  Kokand, 
though  smaller,  are  greatly  like  it.  Osh  is  a 
beautiful  hamlet  in  the  mountains.  So  much 
for  the  works  of  man.      h'or  those  of  the   Great 


28o  Ti'aiis-Caspia  : 

Creator,  what  can  one  say  ?  They  are  grand 
and  full  of  interest,  though,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  "  Sable  Noir,"  they  are  at  times  terrible. 
Yet  that  same  desert  was  most  fascinating:,  and 
I  never  tired  looking  at  its  fantastic  shapes 
and  forms,  at  its  ever  changing  waves  of  sand, 
while  I  appreciated  the  fact  that  to  be  out 
there  for  an  hour  would  have  meant  death. 
When  one  comes  to  the  Alai  Mountains,  there 
is  little  to  say,  because  no  words  will  do  them 
justice.  Having  once  entered  that  enchanted 
region,  the  memory  of  its  snows  and  rippling 
waters,  its  deep  green  grasses,  its  rocks  spangled 
with  "edle-weiss"  and  "forget-me-nots,"  its  pas- 
toral life,  its  peace  with  all,  will  come  to  you 
again  and  again  like   "thoughts  in  a  dream." 

If  the  time  ever  comes  when  Russia  awakes 
to  a  nineteenth  century  state  of  affairs,  when 
one  can  visit  all  this  without  the  slow  desert 
journey  and  the  horrors  of  a  tarantass,  then 
Turkistan  will  become  for  the  world  a  great 
resort ;  but  now  Russia  does  not  want  you, 
and  the  inconveniences  of  travel  are  very  great. 

I     have    just    learned     that,    at    that    famous 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         281 

banquet  at  Askhabad,  given  by  General  Kuro- 
•  patkine  in  honor  of  the  emperor's  birthday, 
between  five  and  six  hundred  soldiers  died 
of  the  cholera ;  and  when  I  asked  what  he 
meant  by  giving  a  banquet  at  such  a  time 
of  horror,  I  was  met  with  a  blank  stare  of 
surprise  and  the  reply:  "It  was  the  emperor's 
birthday."  Perish  the  world,  but  celebrate  the 
emperor's  birthday! 

The  passage  of  the  Caspian  comes  like"  a 
pause  in  strife.  Cool,  calm,  and  beautiful,  one 
enjoys  every  moment.  The  tour  has  been  a 
long  one,  covering  some  ten  thousand  miles 
in  three  months,  but  is   nearly  over  now. 

Again  ancient,  oily  Baku  opens  its  ports  to 
receive  me,  and  there  I  am  forced  to  pass  a 
long,  hot  day,  as  the  train  does  not  leave  until 
1 1  p.  M.  The  heat,  because  of  its  humidity, 
seems  more  unbearable  than  that  of  Turkistan. 
During  the  six  hundred  miles  of  railway  ride 
between  Baku  and  Batoum,  I  am  about  de- 
voured by  mosquitoes,  and  quite  ready  to 
plunge  into  the  Black  Sea  when  its  dancinL; 
waters  come  in  siofht. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         283 

Batoum  nestles  in  a  nook  in  the  mountains, 
but  it  is  not  a  point  of  any  interest ;  and  as 
I  find  a  Messargerie  boat  leaving  within  a  few- 
hours  of  my  arrival,  I  am  soon  gliding  over 
"  the  dancing  waters  of  the  deep  blue  sea." 
It  is  with  a  feeling  of  happiness  that  I  see 
the  last  Russian  vanish  over  the  side  of  the 
ship.  The  constant  espionage  and  restraint 
has  been  very  galling.  They  have  been  very 
polite  about  it,  but  it  was  there  all  the  same, 
and  the  knowledge  riled  one.  Here  you  must 
obtain  permission  to  depart.  His  majesty  was 
loth  to  receive  me,  and  now  seems  as  loth 
to  let  me  go.  My  desire  to  slap  the  smiling, 
hypocritical  face  of  the  man  who  demanded  my 
passport  was  only  restrained  by  the  knowledge 
that  I  was  still  within  their  boundaries,  though 
on  a  French  ship.  But  the  numerous  visas,  all 
of  them  so  much  more  powerful  than  any  he 
could  give,  caused  that  official  to  restore  the 
paper  with  a  deep  salutation  and  a  backing 
out  of  my  presence. 

Here  we  receive  the  news  of  the  earthquake 
at    Constantinople,    of    the    Chicago    riots,    and 


2  84  Trans-  Caspia  : 

of  the  late  terrible   accident  to  a  Russian  ship 
on  these  waters. 

The  character  of  the  power  of  the  Czar  was 
to  me  never  more  fully  illustrated  than  in  the 
utter  ignorance  and  indifference  of  the  Russians 
to  what  goes  on  in  the  great  world.  When 
I  questioned  one,  he  replied:  "What  difference 
do  the  things  of  the  outer  world  make  to  us? 
What  are  they  to  us  ?  We  may  feel  sorry  that 
Madam  Carnot  has  lost  her  husband,  if  we 
think  of  it  at  all,  but  that  is  all.  Why  should 
we  care  what  goes  on  in  France?"  A  veritable 
wall  built  around  seventy  millions  of  human 
beings  by  the  power  of  one  man !  I  had 
always  imagined  that  state  of  affairs  was  con- 
fined to  the  ignorant  classes ;  but  it  extends 
to  all  ranks,  and  if  to-morrow  they  were  or- 
dered to  march,  they  would  move  onward, 
unthinking,  unknowing,  and  uncaring ;  move 
forward  as  does  an  engine  when  the  lever  is 
pulled.  But  under  all  this  there  does  exist 
a  feeling  of  rebellion  against  this  body  and 
soul  enchainment,  and  through  the  hearts  of 
thousands  pass  thoughts  and    hopes  of,  as  one 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         285 

told  me  not  long  since,  a  "  war  in  Europe, 
in  order  that  revolution  may  raise  its  head 
again  in  Russia,"  and  that  thereby  this  "  suffo- 
cating blanket  of  oppression  pass  away  forever." 
They  all  know  of  Kennan  and  his  terrible 
articles.  If  you  question  a  Russian  officer, 
possessing  power  and  loving  it,  he  will  at  once 
denounce  the  whole  as  "  lies,"  and  then  he  will 
watch  you  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  to  see 
whether  he  has  been  able  to  deceive  you.  But 
if  you  happen  to  meet  a  student  from  Moscow, 
as  I  did,  he  will  tell  you  that  they  are  all 
true,  and  the  half  has  not  yet  been  told.  I 
have  left  Russia  and  her  sealed  provinces. 
From  many  of  her  people  I  have  received  the 
marks  of  the  greatest  friendship  and  attention, 
without  which  I  could  not  have  gotten  on ;  and 
to  those  I  shall  ever  turn  again  and  again,  as 
the  years  glide  onward,  with  pleasant  thoughts 
and  well  wishes.  That  the  traveler  has  not 
been  able  to  write  more  favorably  of  their 
form  of  government,  is  because  he  comes  from 
a  progressive  and  enlightened  people,  and  can, 
therefore,   in    no   way   understand   or   tolerate   a 


286  Trans-  Caspia  : 

nation  of  so  many  millions  that,  in  this  nine- 
teenth century,  will  contentedly  remain  in  the 
darkness  of  the   Middle   Ages. 

Of  Russia  as  a  great  power,  I  have  not 
much  idea.  I  do  not  think  she  is  strong. 
True,  she  possesses  a  great  army,  but  it  is, 
in  proportion  to  her  needs  and  her  country  to 
be  defended,  no  larger  than  ours,  of  which 
we  certainly  do  not  boast.  To  guard  Russia 
proper  from  Turkey,  from  Germany,  and  from 
England,  would  alone  take  all  her  army,  leaving 
the  whole  of  Turkistan  open  to  invasion  from 
England  on  the  Indian  side,  from  China  to  the 
eastward,  and  to  internal  rebellion,  rapine,  and 
murder.  As  for  her  Siberian  possessions,  she 
could  not  possibly  protect  them ;  but  she  is 
probably  aware  that  their  best  protection  lies 
in  their  terrible  climate  and  in  the  fact  that  no 
one  would  have  them  as  a  gift.  A  war  would 
also  mean  revolution  internal  in  Russia,  and  what 
the  result  would  be  for  her  is  plainly  to  be  seen. 
She  has  sowed  the  wind ;  she  will  most  certainly 
reap  the  whirlwind.  The  shadows  of  night  gather 
thick  and  dark  over  her  possession  in  this  sea 


The  Sealed  Pi-ovinces  of  the  Czar.        287 


as  the  ship  sails  outward,  and  soon  Batoum 
is  but  a  serpent  of  gHmmering  lights  against 
the  towering^  mountains,  and  then  vanishes  in 
the  sea. 


'■(.UOD-NK.II  I  ." 


288  Trans-  Caspia  : 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

Trebizoxd,  July   29th. 

A  WILD  babel  of  voices  awakens  me  long 
before  I  desire  it,  and  I  lie  for  awhile 
wondering  where  I  am  and  what  it  means. 
Certainly  the  gang  outside  are  not  Russians, 
and  are  not  afraid  of  expressing  their  opinions 
in,  I  should  judge,  fifty  different  languages. 
What  a  pretty  picture !  Over  the  surface  of 
the  bright  green  water  dozens  of  brilliantly 
painted  boats  glide  hither  and  thither,  each 
crowded  with  fantastically  dressed  boatmen  and 
merchants,  with  baskets  of  fruit,  etc.  Beyond, 
on  a  sloping  shore,  rises  the  old  city  of  Trebi- 
zond.  Its  gaily  painted  houses  are  deeply  em- 
bowered in  stately  cypress  trees,  while  far  above 
all  the  green  hills  slumber  in  the  morning  light. 
After  such  a  spot  as  Usin-ada,  Trebizond,  from 
the  sea,  is  most  picturesque,  though  internally 
she  is  not  very  interesting.  We  are  here  but 
a  few  hours,  sailing  westward  with   the   sunset. 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         289 

The  southern  shores  of  the  Black  Sea  are 
dotted  their  entire  leng-th  with  attractive-lookincr 
places.  The  towns  appear  prosperous,  the  land 
has  a  cultivated  look,  and  although  all  is  under 
the  rule  of  the  heathen  Turk,  it  presents  an 
appearance  of  happiness  not  to  be  met  with 
in  the  dominions  of  Russia,  and,  in  fact,  reminds 
one  very  much  of  the  Riviera. 

Later  in  the  day,  we  pause  for  an  hour  or  so. 
The  usual  mountains,  with  a  village  scattered 
over  their  side  and  endinof  in  a  ruined  castle 
on  a  hill  ;  the  usual  brigfht  blue  waters,  bril- 
liantly  painted  boats,  jargon  of  tongues,  and 
jumble  of  colors.  That  is  Terresco.  Feeling 
sure  that  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the 
view,  we  do  not  go  ashore.  The  day  is  too 
warm  to  justify  much  exercise.  So  I  spend 
the  time  hanging  over  the  ship's  rail,  trying 
to  excite  a  score  or  more  of  boatmen  to 
renewed  quarrels.  Judging  by  the  noise,  I  am 
somewhat  successful.  How  little  things  change 
in  this  part  of  the  world  !  Here  comes  a  boat 
ladened  with  water  jars,  just  such  as  were  used 
at    the     "  marriage    in    Cana."       A    lot    of    old 


290  Trans-Caspia: 

Turks  have  come  on  board,  and  are  sitting  in 
solemn,  silent  rows.  No  one  has  spoken  to 
them,  nor  do  they  speak  to  each  other.  After 
awhile,  in  the  same  solemn  silence,  they  depart. 
It  is  excitement  for  them,  as,  of  course,  with 
the  absolute  seclusion  of  their  women,  such  a 
thing  as  society  can  not  exist  at  home.  They 
will  go  back  to  the  dead  silence  of  their  houses, 
varied  only  occasionally  by  the  senseless  chatter 
of  the  women,  quarreling  probably  about  their 
last  box  of  sweetmeats.  There  is  here  an 
effort  to  change  the  usual  order  of  things. 
From  the  center  of  the  town  rises  a  great, 
new,  white  school-house.  But  I  fancy  the  ap- 
parent prosperity  is  all  sham,  as  are  most  other 
things  under  the  dominion  of  the  Sultan, 

SixoPE,  July  30th. 
This  is  a  day  that  one  must  "  kill,"  We 
hold  an  absolutely  clean  bill  of  health,  but,  not 
withstanding,  here  we  must  anchor  for  twenty- 
four  hours  ;  that  it  is  not  much  longer  we  may 
be  thankful  for.  This  is  a  sheltered  bay,  to  the 
north  of   which  projects   a   long    peninsula,   and 


The  Sealed  Provi}ices  of  tJie  Czar.         291 

on  that  are  a  dozen  or  more  detached  houses — 
pest-houses.  Where  the  peninsula  joins  the 
mainland  rises  a  massive  fortress,  so  that,  once 
encaged  on  that  bit  of  land  yonder,  there  is 
no  escape,  save  by  water.  It  is  a  far  better 
station  than  New  York  possesses  for  her  quar- 
antine, and  is  heaven  itself  in  comparison  to 
any  in  Spain,  or  even  at  Marseilles.  The  wind 
to-day  is  cool  and  strong,  and  comes  ladened 
with  salt  from  the  sea.  The  day  will  be  a 
weary  one,  but  there  are  always  letters  to 
write,  and  one  can  spend  much  time  at  the 
table.  We  have  endeavored  to  bribe  the  port 
physician  with  champagne  to  shorten  our  pro- 
bation— but  to  no  effect — "twenty-four  hours." 
I  think,  perhaps,  when  I  reach  Vienna,  I  shall  be 
quarantined  because  of  the  earthquakes  at  Con- 
stantinople. We  are  boarded  by  two  villainous- 
looking  "  guardians  of  the  public  health,"  that  ap- 
pear as  though  they  carried  on  their  vile  persons 
all  the  concentrated  epidemics  that  have  passed 
this  way  for  years  back.  Our  "steerage"  is 
hustled  ashore  first,   and  we  go  later  on.     The 


292  Titans-  Caspia  : 

lazarettos  are  comfortable  frame  houses,  con- 
taining two  rooms,  each  about  fifteen  feet 
square.  The  one  we  enter  certainly  is  very 
clean,  and,  with  comfortable  beds,  would  not 
be  a  bad  abiding  place  if  one  were  quaran- 
tined here ;  but  it  gives  us  an  uncomfortable 
sensation  to  smell  iodoform  and  chloride  of 
lime  over  all,  and  to  notice  that  even  the  grass 
has  been  burned.  There  has  been  no  epidemic 
this  year — only  some  sporadic  cases,  of  which 
there  are  one  or  two  here  now.  Viewed  from 
these  windows,  our  ship  floats  a  very  emblem 
of  liberty,  a  very  portal  of  Heaven.  After  all, 
the  fumigation  is  much  of  a  farce,  so  far  as 
we  are  concerned.  I  most  certainly  could 
carry  away  no  end  of  bacilli.  The  ceremony 
over,  I  wander  to  the  cliff's  side  and  watch  our 
boatmen  in  the  waters  below.  What  superb 
forms !  They  put  to  shame  the  Apollo.  How 
entirely  impossible  such  evenly  perfect  devel- 
opment is  with  artificial  training !  They  make 
me  wish  I  had  been  raised  more  like  a  duck 
or  a  water-dog.  I  doubt  if  I  would  have  been 
obliged    to    turn   back   from   the  Chinese  desert 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  tJie  Czai".         293 

had  such  been  the  case.  But  these  men  are 
mere  animals  after  all ;  so  things  are  not  so 
unevenly  distributed.  We  are  not  long  in  tak- 
ing to  our  boat,  and  are  soon  once  again  on 
the  ship,  feeling  sure  that,  when  she  moves, 
we  shall  not  be  left  behind.  The  two  other 
vessels  near  us  both  spent  a  month  here  last 
year,  at  which  time  some  four  hundred  persons 
died  at  this  station  alone.  Situated  as  it  is 
at  the  center  of  the  southern  coast,  it  is  the 
grand  depot  for  all  this  section.  A  Turkish 
ship  is  here  for  a  week  even  now,  her  cook 
having  succumbed  to  the  pest.  Of  course,  no 
intercourse  is  permitted  with  either  of  them, 
and,  in  fact,  they  look  as  though  they  were 
deserted.  It  is  all  very  depressing,  and  one 
hurries  the  day  along  as  something  to  be  done 
with  and  forgotten.  Yet  I  have  no  doubt  that 
those  who  were  cast  here  during  last  year's 
epidemic  met  with  much  more  hospitable  treat- 
ment than  was  accorded  the  passengers  on  the 
"  Normannia,"  in  the  same  year,  at  Fire  Island. 
One  comes  upon  queer  scenes  in  these  east- 
ern ships.      It  is  about   10  p.  m.,  and  very  dark 


294  Trans- Caspia  ■ 

outside.  I  wander  out  onto  the  lower  deck 
for  a  breath  of  air  before  turning  in,  when 
I  am  attracted  by  the  sound  of  a  voice  in 
recitation,  evidently  a  cultivated  voice.  I  might 
from  here  think  I  am  listening  to  Coquelin 
Cadet,  and  that  is  one  of  Hugo's  tragre- 
dies.  Going  nearer,  I  discover  the  reciter 
to  be  one  of  the  ship's  stokers.  Naked  to 
the  waist,  black  and  grimy,  he  stands  there 
a  perfect  Vulcan,  while  the  stanzas  roll  from 
his  throat  in  majestic  music.  His  auditors, 
some  naked  and  dirty  like  himself,  and  others, 
stolid-faced  Turks  and  Armenians,  form  a  semi- 
circle around  him — invisible  all,  save  when 
some  passenger  strikes  a  match,  or  the  light 
from  below  glares  for  a  moment.  Out  in  the 
darkness  gleam  the  lights  of  the  pest  ships 
and  the  pest  town,  while  overhead  the  stars 
shine  brilliantly.  How  impossible  to  find  in 
Russia  a  man  in  his  position  with  his  mind 
and  education  !  How  different  his  quick,  bright 
glance  and  rapid  gestures  (when  the  darkness 
permits  one  to  see  them)  from  the  stupid, 
stolid,   sodden    faces    in    his    rank    in    the    Holv 


TJie  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         295 

Emoire  !  The  two  types  make  one  thoroughly 
understand  why  revolution  has  failed  in  Russia 
and  been  so  successful  in  France ;  and  just 
so  long  as  Russia  can  keep  up  her  stupefying, 
deadening  policy,  she  will  retain  her  absolute 
hold  over  her  people.  But  when  that  slumber- 
ing volcano — an  oppressed  and  outraged  people 
— breaks  its  crust,  that  old  revolution  in  France 
will  have  been  as  child's  play  by  comparison. 
As  I  close  my  "  port."  for  the  night,  I  hear  the 
same  voice  chanting  the  prayer  from  "  Moses 
in  Egypt."  He  is  only  a  stoker,  but  he  is  at 
no  man's  beck  and  call.  He  has  time  to  sing, 
he  has  the  heart  to  sing,  for  his  life  is  his  own. 
Before  leaving  quarantine  this  morning,  we 
were  greeted  by  the  news  that  cholera  is  epi- 
demic in  St.  Petersburg,  and  has  also  appeared 
at  Adrianople.  That  shuts  me  out  of  the  latter 
place,  which  I  had  hoped  to  visit.  We  live 
in  hopes  that  the  pest  will  delay  its  appearance 
at  Constantinople  until  after  our  arrival,  which, 
if  all  goes  well,  should  take  place  to-morrow 
noon.  That  it  will  appear  there  I  have  not 
much    doubt.       The     late    earthquake,    with    its 


296  Trans- Caspia . 

trail  of  dead,  must  certainly  further  that  ap- 
pearance. I  learned  in  Osh  that  the  black 
plague  always  exists  in  many  of  the  cities  of 
Western  China,  which  rather  lessens  my  de- 
sire for  oriental  investigation  at  those  points. 
It  would  seem  that  no  epidemic  could  long 
exist  in  the  glorious  air  that  sweeps  around 
this  ship  to-day. 

The  Bosphorus  is  almost  in  sight,  but  we  must 
stop  an  hour  for  medical  inspection.  It  means 
nothing,  but  the  news  that  may  reach  us  means 
much.  Those  in  security  have  no  idea  what  a 
quarantine  at  Constantinople  would  be.  One 
would  not  only  be  subjected  to  it  there,  but  wher- 
ever one  might  happen  to  go  thereafter,  until 
Northern  Europe  be  reached.  That  might  take 
two  months  and  more.  I  might  go  on  in  this 
ship  and  risk  quarantine  at  Marseilles,  but  I 
think  I  should  prefer  to  land  here.  Marseilles 
itself  is  one  of  those  pest  spots  that  always 
has  the  cholera  if  it  exists  elsewhere.  We  shall 
know  in  a  very  little  while  what  awaits  us,  as 
"Messieurs    de    Sante "   are   just    boarding    the 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         297 

ship.  Two  men  who  probably  know  nothing 
about  the  proper  method  for  such  service. 
We  of  the  first  cabin  are  inspected  at  once, 
all  standing  in  line.  It  is  mere  form,  so  far 
as  we  are  concerned ;  but,  following  the  in- 
spectors forward,  one  discovers  a  different 
state  of  affairs.  Amidships,  on  a  raised  hatch- 
way, a  Turkish  family  have  lived  for  a  week, 
the  women  always  veiled.  It  has  been  a  marvel 
to  me  how  they  kept  so  many  people  on  that 
hatch  without  an  occasional  spill  over  ;  but  they 
are  spilled  right  and  left  by  these  inspectors. 
The  women  are  unveiled  and  made  to  show 
their  tongues,  while  the  children  are  reduced  to 
utmost  woe  by  numerous  pokes.  Around  about 
stand  the  ship's  crew  and  deck  passengers ; 
and  what  a  queer  scene  it  is !  The  French 
faces  are  keen  and  alert,  ready  to  make  the 
engines  go,  or  to  sing  the  "Marseillaise"  as 
they  conduct  us  to  the  guillotine ;  the  semi- 
intelligent  faces  of  the  Armenians,  the  stolid, 
stupid  faces  of  the  Turks,  varied  by  one  Dutcli 
face,    a    Georgian    or    two,   and    one    American. 


298  Trans- Caspia  : 

Now  the  French  crew  are  passing  in  review. 
Many  of  them,  I  should  say,  are  descended 
from  that  "  Vengeance,"  who,  with  Theresa 
Defarge,  kept  talley  at  the  guillotine  the  day 
of  Sidney  Carton's  sacrifice.  A  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne to  the  "  Messieurs  de  Sante,"  and  the 
inspection  is  over.  Those  officers  of  the  Star 
and  Crescent  depart  with  a  "  Bon  Voyage," 
and  we  are  free  to  do  likewise.  No  one  save 
the  stewardess  seems  particularly  upset  by  the 
episode.  Some  one  suggested  that  she  had 
false  teeth,  and  "there  was  war  in  Egypt." 
The  rest  have  returned  to  their  wonted  state 
of  calm.  Veiled  again  are  the  Turkish  women, 
while  that  old  Turk  yonder  has  drawn  over 
him  two  blankets  and  a  comfort  and  pfone 
sound  asleep  in  the  sunlight,  notwithstanding 
that  the  heat  must  be  somewhere  near  ninety 
degrees.  We  have  one  Sart  on  board,  who 
seems  to  rest  in  eternal  orood  humor  and  to 
consider  life  as  a  huge  joke.  Peace  go  with 
him  !  Allah  guard  his  footsteps  !  The  anchor 
is  on  its  way  up  from  the  bottom,  and  we  are 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         299 

off,  steaming  through  the  gates  of  the  Bos- 
phorus,  to  stop  again  only  in  the  Golden  Horn. 
Attractive  towns  crowd  either  bank.  That 
to  the  right,  with  its  many  villas  and  terraced 
sides,  might  be  Cannes  or  Nice,  but  for  those 
balloon-like  figures  in  blue  and  red  which  prom- 
enade the  shore.  Long  lines  of  cypress  trees, 
so  characteristic  of  all  Turkish  landscapes, 
march  up  and  down  the  hills,  which  are  every 
here  and  there  crowned  with  ruins.  The  waters 
are  covered  with  sails  ot  many  colors.  Between 
the  two  great  towers  on  the  right  rises  a 
summer  hotel,  built  and  run,  I  am  told,  by  an 
American.  Turkey  is  evidently  not  afraid  to 
have  her  fortress  overlooked,  as  every  window 
of  that  hotel  commands  a  good  view  thereof. 
On  the  left  rise  the  towers  of  that  fortress  so 
graphically  described  by  General  Wallace  in 
his  "  Prince  of  India,"  while  further  on  the 
Hills  of  Scutari  block  the  view,  and  the  houses 
of  Galata  keep  her  company  on  the  right,  both 
acting  as  wings  for  the  great  central  picture. 
Beyond    the    gaunt   trees   of   "  Seraglio   Point," 


300  Trails- Caspia  : 

beyond  the  minarets  of  St.  Sophia  and  Sultan 
Achmet,  rises  a  vast  jumble  of  roofs — rises 
that   great    desire  of   Russia's  Czar — Stamboul. 

"The  B'>s[)horus  shall  he  free; 
It  shall  make  room  for  me, 
And  the  gates  of  its  water-streets 
Be  unbarred  before  mv  fleets. 
I  say  it:  the  great  white  Czar." 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.        30 1 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

STAMBOUL,  and  not  Central  Asia,  is  the 
end  and  aim  of  Russia's  ambitions.  She 
knows  that  she  can  never  conquer  India,  and 
she  knows  that  nature,  in  the  shape  of  the 
Pamirs  and  the  almost  impassable  deserts, 
guards  her  eastern  possessions  better  than  all 
her  armies  can  do  it.  To  my  thinking,  any 
war  movement  she  makes  in  that  direction  is 
but  a  blind  to  cover  her  advance  on  this  city 
of  Constantine.  She  already  controls  all  to 
the  north,  even  if  she  does  not  own  all  in 
name  ;  while,  as  the  traveler  passes  by  rail  to 
Vienna,  he  will  see  that,  like  a  huge  cuttle- 
fish, she  has  run  her  tentacles  in  to  the  west- 
ward ;  and  were  she  not  a  house  divided 
against  herself,  were  she  possessed  of  a  gov- 
ernment like  that  of  Great  Britain,  it  would 
not  be  long  before  St.  Sophia  would  blaze 
with    the    jewels    of  the    Holy  Icons.     We   can 


3  o  2  Trans-  Caspia  : 

not  but  wish  that  such  might  be  the  case,  lor, 
no  matter  how  greatly  we  may  disapprove  of 
her,  she  is  vastly  better  than  the  Turks,  who, 
to  my  mind,  are  too  nasty  to  be  allovv^ed  to 
exist  in  Europe.  But  Russia  is  divided  against 
herself,  while  state  and  church  are  surrounded 
by  a  web  of  intrigue  only  possible  in  an  abso- 
lute monarchy.  Never  in  the  greatest  days 
of  the  Church  of  Rome  were  her  priests  pos- 
sessed of  stronger  temporal  power  than  those 
of  the  Russia  of  to-day ;  and  to-day  all  the 
world  looks  on  with  terror  at  her  slowly 
dying  emperor,  the  preserver  of  the  peace 
of  Europe,  a  devoted  father,  and  an  example 
of  a  faithful  husband  found  on  the  thrones 
of  Europe.  Alexander  the  Third  is  dying 
broken-hearted,  as  much  a  victim  to  his  form 
of  government  as  is  the  lowest  of  the  serfs, 
for  they  are  still  "  serfs,"  though  not  in  name. 
Whatever  oppression  has  fallen  on  his  people 
has  come,  not  from  himself,  though  all  the 
blame  will  be  his,  but  from  those  in  office 
under  him.  They  hold  and  sway  the  real  au- 
thority,  and   in   them,  being   Russians,   is  devel- 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar. 


0^0 


oped,  by  the  possession  of  absolute  power,  all 
that  brutality  which  lies  latent  in  man — and 
it  is  enormous.  I  do  not  think,  as  he  is  human 
and  not  divine,  that  it  is  within  the  emperor's 
power  to  do  away  with  this  present  order  of 
things.  Nothing  save  a  revolution,  far-reaching 
and  bloody — a  revolution  one  shudders  to  con- 
template— can  bring  light  to  the  darkness  of 
"  Holy  Russia." 

In  the  November  days,  that  darkness  deep- 
ens, and  the  end  comes  at  Lavadia.  Alexander 
passes  before  that  throne  that  knows  no  dif- 
ference between  Czar  and  peasant,  solves  the 
"grand,  sad  subject  of  the  immortality";  but  I 
fancy,  when  the  recording  angel  struck  his 
name  from  the  book  of  the  living  and  entered 
it  on  the  book  of  the  dead,  that  he  inscribed 
thereunder:  "He  hath  done  what  he  could." 
Peace  to  the  soul  of  the  Czar ! 


304  Trans-  Caspia  : 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Constantinople,   August  2,    1894. 

LET  those  who  possess  the  memory  of  this 
Ottoman  capital  as  it  was  twenty  years 
since  keep  that  memory  green  and  not  destroy  it 
by  a  visit  to  the  city  as  it  now  exists.  The 
change  is  great,  and,  for  the  lover  of  the 
picturesque,  most  deplorable.  From  the  sea, 
Constantinople  presents  the  same  splendid  ap- 
pearance as  of  yore,  and  one  is  led  to  suppose 
that  they  will  again  see  the  delightful  city  of 
their  memory.  As  you  land  at  Pera  and  pass 
up  the  old  familiar  streets,  once  sacred  to  don- 
keys and  sedan  chairs,  you  notice  that  the 
latter  have  vanished  utterly,  and  the  former 
slink  by  as  though  under  interdiction.  Smart 
victorias  roll  along  and  tram-cars  jingle  their 
bells  through  the  narrow  thoroughfares.  There 
is  an  inclined  plane  that  carries  one  quickly 
to  the  heights  above,   and  during  the    progress 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Cza7\         305 

affords  a  glimpse  now  and  then  of  the  street 
of  steps,  down  which,  in  the  old  days,  you 
have  made  your  stately  progress  in  a  sedan 
chair. 

Pera  is  about  as  it  used  to  be,  save  for  some 
comfortable  hotels,  to  which  one  does  not  object, 
and  some  blocks  of  fine  buildings.  Across 
from  my  window  is  a  summer  garden,  where 
of  old  Turkish  tombstones  raised  their  stone 
turbans  and  fezes.  Many  of  them,  I  notice, 
are  being  used  for  hitching-posts,  and  many 
of  the  stately  cypress  trees  are  gone  forever. 
But  the  view  from  my  window  is  as  enchanting 
as  of  old.  There,  is  the  inner  Golden  Horn 
with  its  fleet  of  war  ships ;  there,  is  the  long 
bridge  of  boats  to  Stamboul,  and  beyond  rise 
the  domes  and  minarets  of  the  Musselman 
quarter.  As  one  descends  for  a  visit,  he  notices 
on  the  bridge  of  boats  a  strange  absence  of 
color,  a  certain  drabness  that  grates  upon  the 
eye  ;  and  at  last  discovers  that  the  turbans  and 
brilliant  Turkish  dresses  of  both  men  and  women 
have  vanished.  The  crowds  before  him  arc 
dressed  in  "Cheap  John"   English  clothes,  with 


3o6  Trails- Caspia  : 

no  jot  of  color  save  a  fez  now  and  then.  Gone 
are  the  balloon  dresses  of  the  women,  vanished 
are  the  Yashmacs,  and  as  the  carriages  roll  by, 
the  faces  in  them  are  more  plainly  to  be  seen 
than  in  a  European  town.  There  is  no  shadow 
of  the  days  of  old  left  in  the  costumes  of  the 
people.  I  confess  that  it  is  in  a  disheartened 
condition  that  I  pass  slowly  onward.  Still  the 
domes  of  St.  Sophia  rise  over  there.  Surely  the 
old  temple  can  not  have  changed  with  the  rest. 
It  is  useless  to  go  "  bazaar  wards,"  as  they  have 
been  ruined  by  the  recent  earthquakes  ;  and  if 
they  had  not,  they  had  already  lost  their  old-time 
charm,  and  will  never  again  possess  it.  They 
will  be  rebuilt  after  some  European  model,  and 
all  the  old  shadowy  corners,  with  their  gleam 
of  silver  and  gold,  their  faint  odor  of  sandal- 
wood and  attar  of  roses,  be  gone  forever,  as 
are  the  bevies  of  laughing,  chattering,  darkly 
veiled  women  that  were  wont  to  follow  one 
around.  Past  the  closed  and  ruined  quarters 
one  goes  in  silence,  and  on  and  up  through  the 
dusty  streets,  to  what  I  remember  as  a  bower  of 


THE    RUTXED    BAZAARS. 


J 


08  Travis-  Caspia  : 


beauty — the  old  Seraglio,  a  place  where  the 
cypress  and  myrtle  mingled  their  fragrance 
with  the  salt  of  the  blue  waters  murmuring 
around  them — a  garden  of  delight.  Pity  I  had 
not  retained  my  memories,  but  the  "  now  "  and 
"then"  are  so  very  different  that  perhaps  the 
recollections  of  the  latter  may  survive  the  shock 
of  the  former.  The  "Sublime  Port"  is  dilapi- 
dated and  dirty,  and  now  gives  entrance  to 
a  brand  new  government  building.  Through 
what  were  the  shades  of  these  gardens  where 
of  old  Sultanas  wandered,  the  Oriental  Express 
passes,  shrieking  wildly ;  and  when  I  ask  my 
guide,  "  Where  are  the  ruins  of  that  marble 
chute  down  which  plunged  the  victims  of  the 
Saltans?"  he  stares  in  wonder  and  points  with 
pride  to  the  painted  railway  station.  What 
stupid  fools  these  Turks  are,  to  destroy  that 
which  drew  thousands  to  their  city.  As  Dom 
Pedro  said  of  the  monks  of  Cordova:  "They 
have  done  what  any  one  could  do,  but  they  have 
destroyed  what  was  unique  in  the  world."  But 
enough ;  let  us  pass  under  the  dim  portals  of  the 
church  of  Constantine.     This  is  as  we  knew  it ; 


The  Sealed  Provinces  of  the  Czar.         309 

this  is  as  we  left  it.  This  has  escaped  the  de- 
stroying tooth  of  change  and  time.  The  very 
rugs,  as  they  slant  across  the  pavements  in  order 
to  face  the  Holy  of  Holies,  bring  back  each  and 
every  face  to  my  memory  which  I  saw  when 
I  trod  them  years  ago,  w^hile  the  silence  and 
sacredness  of  the  old  temple  penetrates  and 
calms  one's  soul.  Through  the  dim  light 
flutter  stray  pigeons,  and  from  the  base  of  a 
column  which  once  supported  the  temple  of 
Diana  at  Ephesus,  comes  the  droning  voice 
of  an  old  Turk.  He  wears  his  Qfreen  turban, 
and  he  is  reciting  the  Koran  for  the  benefit 
of  his  soul.  Over  all  soars  the  marvelous  dome, 
and  off  in  an  eastern  nook,  still  to  be  seen, 
though  more  faintly  now  than  of  yore,  is  the 
outline  of  the  Virgin's  figure,  lasting  through 
all  these  centuries,  and  being  the  only  sem- 
blance of  the  human  form  to  be  found  in  St. 
Sophia.  After  all,  there  is  but  one  St.  Sophia, 
and  no  other  temple  on  earth  approaches  it 
for  impressiveness.  Under  its  arches  you  will 
linger  long,  from  its  portals  you  will  depart  with 
regret ;    and  wherever  your  footsteps   may   lead 


3 1  o  Trans-  Caspia  : 

you  in  life's  journey,  you  will  carry  with  you 
always  a  remembrance  of  its  deep  peace,  its 
benediction  of  repose  to  soul  and  body.  All 
the  Christian  world  must  sympathize  with  the 
desires  of  the  Greek  Church  to  possess  again 
this  "Mecca"  of  her  faith,  to  sweep  forever 
from  St.  Sophia  the  taint  of  Mohammed,  to 
raise  aloft  the  cross  of  Christ  after  its  banish- 
ment of  a  thousand  years,  to  unveil  forever 
more  the  face  of  the  mother  of  God. 

"And  the  Christian  shall  no  more 
Be  crushed,  as  heretofore, 
Beneath  thine  iron  rule, 

0  Sultan  of  Istamboul! 

1  swear  iti     I,  the  Czar, 
Batvushka:  Gosudar!"  * 


FINIS. 


*  "  Father -dear,  sffi'ereis^n.'''' 


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